The Punisher: Hunters And Killers
by BLAKKSTONE
Summary: The Punisher is trying to stop a city wide gang war in New York. And a very determined cop is on his trail. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are used without permission. The others belong to me

HUNTERS AND KILLERS: A PUNISHER FANFIC

NEW YORK CITY  
0802 HOURS

Cleveland Franklin walked into the police precinct. He asked who was in charge. He stated his purpose.

"You're not the first to have this job. Countless feds and cops had this shit assignment before you." The police captain said to the bulkier man following him.

The large black man said nothing. His eyes were hidden by shades. Unreadable. The Captain went on.

"Years ago, there was that fed, Hamilton, he gave up. The VIGIL, high tech blowhards that looked like action figures, then there was this dyke who quit and worked wit this world class loser, Soap...He became and alcoholic and then a porn star."

The men were still walking silently in the hallway. The Captain again:

"So...I suppose the feds couldn't spare more resources, with all the Al Qaeda shit and Homeland Security and that stuff, right?"

The man didn't answer.

"I heard about you, Franklin. A few months ago, you were tracking this escaped convict. Some scumbag biker asshole up in Phily. He was holed up with a dozen of his biker buddies. You had no back up. No fellow US Marshals to help you out. So, you rushed in and-"

"Soap kept files?" Franklin said.

The voice startled the captain. It sounded like a raspy lion's growl. The voice of a man who saw a lot of shit. Ate a lot of shit. And kicked plenty of ass.

"W-Well..."The captain said. "Yeah..."

Franklin opened his office door. It was the office that had once belonged to Martin Soap. Several boxes of files were piled up from the floor to the ceiling.

"Uh..."The captain said.

"Shut up. "Franklin said.

"Hey. "The captain said, grabbing Franklin's arm "you don't-"

Franklin grabbed hold of the captain's neck and pushed him against the wall.

"Listen to me, asshole. Your bosses had Van Richtofen and Soap assigned here because they were fuck ups and they were expected to fail. There was also some poor bastard who hung himself in that office. There are rumours that that Ma Gnucci owned this precinct."

Certain cops approached the scene. Franklin looked at them.

"Back the fuck up." He growled.

"Do what he says." The cops backed down.

"Here's the deal." Franklin said. "I'm here cause I pissed my bosses off. So they tell me "Catch this guy, get back in the game, you get your own squad to take scumbags down." I said yes, but I know I'm expected to fail and not give a shit. But I'm a cop and I'll do my job and I expect your full cooperation."

"What do you need?"

"I need for you and your corrupt bureaucrats to stay the fuck out of my way. Think you manage that?"

"Yeah". Captain had trouble breathing.

Franklin let go. "Good." He whispered and walked away. Some of the cops stood in his way.

"We gonna have a problem?" Franklin asked.

They still stood in his way. He took off this shades and put them away. When they met his eyes, some of them almost recoiled.

"Let him go." The captain said.

They backed down and let him through.

Some rushed to the captain: "You okay, captain?"

"Yeah. Look. Let that fucker go. The NYPD, the feds, I heard even the CIA couldn't nail AND keep locked up the bastard Justice sent this asshole to get. That crazy fuck thinks he can nail The Punisher by himself, let him."

"Boss, I have a buddy in Phily. It's true. That crazy son of a bitch did grease half a dozen bikers by himself and crippled a couple, including the escaped guy. Fucker IS hardcore."

"I heard about that too. "Another dick said." Also, he took out several gang-bangers in Chicago. And L.A. And-"

"Fuck him." The captain said.

Cleveland Franklin went to his car. A black 1980s model Trans Am. He went behind the wheel.

Alone. No back up. No resources. Hung out to dry. Expected to fall.

It didn't matter.

One way or the other, he was gonna get Frank Castle.

STATEN ISLAND  
2403 hours-the next morning

The Punisher had a theory of the kinda scum he killed.

Someone must have a dome somewhere where they grow them, like a greenhouse, or something.

For 30 years, Castle was killing this guys. Ever since scum just like them killed him and his family in Central Park. That bright sunny day where Frank Castle took his family for a picnic and they stumbled in on a gangland execution. The skills he learned and honed as a marine in Nam were since dedicated to the eradication of gangsters and assorted fucks.

Some called Castle a blood thirsty psychopath. Maybe he was. Maybe he just believed, like his Sicilian ancestors, in the laws of the vendetta. Maybe he just believed the end justified the means.

Well, as long as they kept coming, Castle kept killing them. Two things the world would never run out of, idiots and scumbags. Someone else would have to handle the idiots, Castle took care of the scumbags. Though some skells belonged to both categories.

Another big goombah shindig in another huge estate. Cosa Nostra trying to get their shit together despite Castle's relentless war. However, with the post 9/11 hysteria, most fed were on the look out for Al Qaeda. Less surveillance on this assholes.

Some this pricks got more ambitious and a bit careless, since they had fewer cops and fed on their asses.

So did Castle. There hasn't been a decent manhunt for the Punisher in ages. The best the cops in recent times could do was that Soap guy. The epitome of pathetic.

The powers that be had bigger fish to fry. Like scan the sky for a hailstorm of Boeings and Anthrax missiles.

Mobsters getting fat off dope, whores and murder wasn't important anymore.

Fine. That left more targets for Castle.

The Punisher checked his gear.

MM-1 12-round 40 mil bloop gun.

M-60.

A5 ACP, MAC-11. Four of them. Two under armpits, two strapped on thighs. Not top of the line, but they came cheap. Hard to resist a bargain.

Twin Colts on his hips.

That should about-

An engine. A big engine was coming this way. A monster truck made its way onto the estate, followed by several black SUVs.

Ok. Castle never tried for Columbo's spot as a detective, but that seemed like a strong arm move. Castle remained in the bush.

Men in suits came out of the house with pistols, subguns and shotguns. Several were squashed by ten feet high tires. Instant road-kill. Dozens of others came out of the big house. Men in black fatigues came out of the SUVs, in full battle gear, holding silenced assault rifles. Firing controlled, disciplined bursts at the mob guys.

Pros. Special forces training. Had to be. The way they were moving, the speed with which they were control of the place. No wasted ammo. No wasted motion.

Castle was trying to figure out what to do. Rival crew? Fellow vigilantes? Wait and see.

One of the mob guys rushed out of the house. He was with his wife and child. He either planned on getting them to a safe place or was trying to use them as shields. The mob guys were thinking they were dealing with a squad of Punishers.

Castle saw some of the assailants take aim at the guy, with wife and child. No way they could hit the guy without killing the wife and kid.

That was all the evidence Castle needed. He grabbed hold of his MM-1 and fired a HE 40 mil at one of the SUVs. Despite being hidden in the bush, he was within effective range. The truck exploded in cacophony of twisting metal and ignited fuel and explosives.

They turned their attention towards Castle. The were ducking for cover. The man ran to safety, taking his family with him.

Fuck it. No balls, no glory.

He grabbed the 60 and let her sing her song of death. The heavy 7,62 rounds were chewing into a couple of the men. Four went down. The rest fired back. Tree bark was splintered around the Punisher, he would have to-

One of the fired a flare in the dark, starless sky. Castle noticed some of them had night vision goggles.

This was way professional.

They were splitting the assets. A force of 20 men. Half were taking the house, the others heading towards Castle. They spotted him. For sure this time.

Two men had 40 mils fitted under their rifles. Castle had to retreat. He ran towards the forest, away from the death squad.

Two trees exploded behind him. Castle ducked to avoid the debris and the shockwave. The blasts were still deafening. A question of seconds before they could reach his position. He had to cover his retreat-

He couldn't retreat.

He thought of the wife and kids. The mafia guys brought their families. Kids. They were about to get slaughtered.

Flee, live to fight again and let innocents be killed. Certain death, by professional mercs.

No choice at all.

Holding the sixty in one hand the MM-1 in the other, he ran back towards the opposition. If Judgement was gonna come for everybody, Castle included, so be it.

And Castle advanced towards what could be his doom.

No time for stealth and strategy. Castle had to take these bastards out. All he could think of were the possible innocent casualties in the house.

He came out of the forest he used as a cover, blasting with the 60, from the hip and firing with the MM-1 thumper.

No cover, had to rely on luck, speed, skill, determination and weaponry. The large 7,62 rounds from Castle's machine gun tearing up Kevlar vest and flak jackets. Three more of the hit squad went down, as two more flew, blown away by HE 40 mil rounds.

Their buddies didn't lose their nerve, crouching down and firing from silenced H&K MP-5 subguns.

The enemy rounds shattered the m-60 and hit Castle in the chest. He dropped it. The 9mm slugs couldn't penetrate his own body armour. Adrenaline and bloodlust kept The Punisher going. He absorbed the pain as he unslung one of his .45 ACP MAC 11s. He ducked sideways and down, firing full auto bursts of 230 grain slugs at their kneecaps, parts unprotected by Kevlar.

Two sets of kneecaps blood, bone and tissue exploded as well as crippling pain and blood curling screams of agony. Then Castle rolled on his sides, firing half blindly with the Mac 11 at his last two adversaries. And fired a HE from the MM-1. A yell. An explosion. When stopped rolling. Both men were down.

He dropped the then empty MAC-11, and grabbed another one as he rushed towards the house. His mind was filled the all too familiar images of bullet riddled bodies of women and children, bathing in blood.

He had to-

He came face to face with the rest of the death squad coming out of the house. Filled with dark, cold rage, he rose his weapons. There were half a dozen men aiming at him. No way he could them all, but he would go down-

Something whistled over his head and two explosions scattered and blew apart the members of the hit team. The shockwave knocked Castle on his back. Automatic fire poured in from somewhere behind Castle. The Punisher, still dizzy from the blast, was seeing stars, but also the hit team being cut apart by high velocity bullets.

Then, it was over. The silence was as deafening as the preceding sounds of war.

Castle heard footsteps behind him. He rushed to his feet, but ended up looking into the smoking barrel of an M-16 rifle, fitted with a 40 Mil launcher. He looked at the man holding the weapon. He had another one slung over his shoulder. Still smoking as well.

Tall, black, muscular. Hard features. Cold determined eyes. Stubble. Kevlar vest. Badge.

"Cleveland Franklin" The man said. "United States Marshal Service."

"I suppose I'm under arrest."

"Good guess. Drop the hardware, Castle."

"You came here, alone, no back up."

"I'm about to drill you between the eyes with my back up if you don't drop your guns."

Castle did as he was told, his mind racing. The idea of going to Ryker's yet again didn't really please him that much.

"How did you know where to find me?" Castle asked.

"Same way you knew this big mob meet was gonna happen. I asked around. Someone talked. You ain't that hard to figure out, Castle."

"Guess not."

"I don't wanna shoot you, Castle. I'm not a hit-man. Just a cop, doin' his job."

"Could have let these guys kill me. Would have made your job easier."

"I'm a cop, Castle. I don't let people get shot, no matter who they are."

"Who'd you piss off?"

"What?"

"Cops don't bother with me that much anymore, especially since 9/11. Unless they're losers, or they pissed someone off. I'm a shit assignment, Franklin. I'm proud of it. So if you're here, you must have pissed somebody off. You're a good cop. Must have pissed off someone high up. Who?"

"Never mind that, just-"

Then Franklin's eyes went wide and he went down. Unconscious. Castle saw a dart in the big cop's neck.

Then a slender, female shadow came from behind one of the parked SUVs on the estate's lawn. As she came closer, Castle relaxed. He recognized her. Reddish, auburn hair, skintight black outfit and wrist guns.

"Black Widow." He said.

"Come quickly, Castle." She said. " We have little time."

"Why should I trust you?"

"For God's sakes, drop the paranoid war vet façade-"

"It's not a façade"

"Let's go."

Castle could hear sirens.

"Okay."

Widow pulled a small remote and a nifty sports car appeared out of thin air, hovering several feet feet off the ground. It came down near the former spy and the current vigilante. They got in and it flew away.

Two federal agents were on their way to the Staten Island crime scene.

"Biggest fuckin' mob meet since….since…"Agent Feinstein said.

"That Manhattan Towers thing in the 1990s." Agent O'Reilly said. "The one Punished crashed on his suicide run at the bastards."

"At least. I can't fuckin' believe it." Feinstein said. "Where the fuck were we?"

"Uh…back at headquarters?" O'Reilly said.

"Don't be a fucking smart ass, Irish."

"You have to cuss every other word? And why do you call me 'Irish' and I can't call you Jew'?"

"When I call you Irish, it's a term of endearment. You call me Jew, it's anti-semitic. Rules of the PC game, bro."

"Something's screwy about that rule."

"I appreciate the attempt at levity and humour and changing the subject, but we shoulda been sittin' on these assholes."

"What, no F-bomb?"

"We fuckin' shoulda been fuckin' sittin' on these fuckin' assholes."

"Better. And I agree."

"Fuckin' homeland security. Yanking our budget."

"These mob guys kill a couple dozen people a year. Al Qaeda kills 3000 in one hit. Who's the bigger threat?"

"Please. The average business owner has a bigger chance at being hit up for protection money or being forced to buy from certain suppliers…or…or…being whacked for being at the wrong place at the wrong time and wanting to testify against some mafia piece of shit than…being…fuckin'… blown up by a suicide bomber or by some fuckin' crashing plane again."

"You willing to take that chance?"

"Oh, fuck that shit, Irish. Just because terrorism is the new fad don't mean that crime shouldn't be a concern anymore. There are still gangsters out there. They get away with enough shit when we were watching them, never mind NOW."

"Aren't you jewish? Shouldn't you be concerned about these Allah-Ackbar dudes? These guys hate you guys. Aren't you happy we're going after them?"

"We're here. To be continued, Irish."

"Better believe it."

The two FBI agents got out of their car. The estate was covered with emergency vehicles. Cops and feds from a couple divisions.

Fenstein was 6'2", broad shouldered, black hair. O'Reilly was shorter, balding, more rotund, and had glasses. They were greeted by NYPD detectives. A tell red-headed man and a shorter woman, with brown curly hair.

"Feinstein and O'Reilly. FBI, Organized Crime Task Force."

"Detectives Kelly and Brenner." The red-headed man said. "This is a friggin' mess, guys."

"Give it to us." O'Reilly said.

"Big shit mafia thing. People from the Tri-state, Vegas, Chicago, Montreal, Toronto…."Kelly said. "This was huge."

"We know all that. So what happened? Was it Castle?" Feinstein said.

"Maybe you should ask the witness." Brenner said.

"Witness." Feinstein said.

"Yeah…It's a story worth listening to." Brenner said.

The small group walked around dozens of cops, paramedics.

"Place is a fuckin' war zone." Feinstein said when he saw some of the bodies.

"It's horrible." Kelly said. "Almost a hundred dead."

"Christ…"Oreilly said.

"All the wiseguys are dead. Their bodyguards, their wives and kids, it was a fucking massacre." Brenner said.

"And there's more." Kelly said.

"This miracle witness, right?" Feinstein said.

They soon approached a black man sitting on the hood of a car. Sipping a cup of coffee.

"Holy shit." Feinstein said.

"What?" Kelly said.

"I know this guy. It's Cleveland Franklin."

"What?" O'Reilly said. "Killer Cleveland…Hey, it's true, it IS him."

"So you know this guy's story?" Brenner said.

"U.S. Marshal. A genuine bad ass. Keeps pissing off the brass, but they can't get rid of him."

Feinstein said. "Fucker keeps getting the job done, no matter shit ass job he gets handed. One of the best cops ever. The fuck is he doing here? He the witness?"

"He's the guy?" O'Reilly asked.

"He's the guy." Brenner said.

They approached him.

"Marshal Franklin?" Feinstein said.

Franklin looked up from his coffee.

"I'm Special Agent Feinstein, this is my partner, Special Agent O'Reilly, FBI, OCTF."

Franklin nodded. And said. "You probably gonna ask what the fuck I was don' here?"

"Pretty astute observation." O'Reilly said.

"Astute?" Feinstein said.

"Yeah. Nice word, huh?" O'Reilly said

"Worth a lot at Scrabble?" Feinstein asked.

"I was on The Punisher's trail." Franklin said, ignoring the banter.

And Franklin told the story. About The Punisher and the commando-like men that entered the scene. How ruthless and professional they were. How Castle actually never made it in the house. How he had Castle dead bang. And how he went down. And the docs told him he was hit with a tranquiliser.

"You were sent here, no back up, no nothing to nail Castle?" O'Reilly said.

"Yeah." Franklin said.

"Who uses tranquiliser darts in gunfight?" O'Reilly said.

"And who the fuck are these commando guys?" Feinstein said.

"Maybe we can help with that second question." A voice said from behind.

The small group of cops turned to see two more men. Both over 6 feet tall and broad shouldered. One was clean shaven, square jawed, had crew cut hair and carried a seemingly muscular build under his suit. The other had shorter hair, a short beard, seemed athlectic, but less bulky than his partner.

"I am Peter Niemans." The one with the stubble said. "This is Arkady Danko. We are INTERPOL."

"INTERPOL?" Feinstein said, with and incredulous expression on his face. His colleagues seemed just as surprised.

"Yes." Danko said, in accented English. "And we may have a name for the man behind this carnage."

MANHATTAN

"Viktor Rastovillich." Black Widow said.

Widow and Punisher were in a sky-rise downtown. Top secret high-tech facility. Castle was slightly wounded from the firefight and was patched up. He was having coffee and watching a large monitor. There was the picture of a man in his 50s. Short white hair, hard face. Cold eyes.

"You were there for the mafia." The ex KGB spy went on. "But so was he."

"What's his story?" Castle asked.

"Soviet Special Forces. Best of the best. Went everywhere he was sent. Has a reputation for being cold and ruthless. In the 1990s, he left and went on his own doing mercenary work. He built himself a small army of former comrades in arms. Also recruited men, former spies and soldiers from the Eastern block: West-Germany, Romania, former Czech soldiers…He has veritable network of hard men doing dirty jobs for whoever can afford him."

"And now, he's here?" Castle asked.

"My sources told me he is. Tonight's events confirm that."

"He's a merc. Who hired him?"

Natasha Romanov stroke a few keys on a key board and the screen split in two, Another face showed up next to Rastovillich.

"Piotr Tatamovich." Castle said. "Russian mob boss here in this very neighbourhood."

"You know him."

"He was on my list. He disappeared a few months ago, figured he left or got killed. I moved on."

"We have reason to believe he hired Rastovillich and his army of killers."

"Tatamovich would be trying to make a strong arm move on the New York mobs?"

"That's what we're thinking."

STATEN ISLAND

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." Feinstein said.

"These men are cold blooded murderers. They are animals." Danko said. "They will kill anyone who stands in their way."

"I knew those guys were pros." Franklin said.

"You were quite fortunate to survive them." Niemans said.

"We're gonna have a fuckin' war on our hands." Feinstein said, rubbing his eyes.

"That is putting it lightly." Danko said.

"You guys have a reprieve." Franklin said.

"How you figure that?" O'Reilly asked.

"They weren't expecting heavy casualties. They thought this would be a cake walk." Franklin said. "They gotta regroup. Rethink their plans. Gives you time to figure out their next move."

"He's right, Feinstein." O'Reilly said. "Man, do we need to make some calls. We're gonna need some serious manpower.

MANHATTAN

"How about the US Marshal on my ass?" Castle asked.

"The car's cameras took pictures, ran them in the system on the way here." Soon, the black cop's face appeared as well.

"Cleveland Jeremiah Franklin. Born in Washington DC. Served in Desert Storm One. Joined the Marshals afterwards. One of the highest fugitive recovery rates in history. Prone to excessive force. Fierce determination. Survived countless firefights. Shot many times. Often charges in alone during arrests, when he believes there is no time to wait for back up. His last major gunfight, he killed eight members of a biker gang and wounded six more, on his own, during the arrest of a prison escapee, also member of that gang. Confined to desk duty the last few months."

"Tough man." Castle said.

"It would seem so."

STATEN ISLAND

"Me?" Franklin said.

"You." Feinstein said. "We need some hard asses on this one."

"I'm not here to stop a gang war." Franklin said.

"No, you gotta catch Castle." Feinstein went on. "Look, Castle is probably on to this little Russian invasion-no offence, Danko."

"None taken." Danko said, deadpan.

"Good." Feinstein went on. "Look, you can keep doing the Lone Wolf thing, but you have better chance at getting the Punisher if you hang with this—task force, I guess we're becoming that. What do you say?"

"I've killed a bunch of guys and been knocked out. I need to rest if I'm gonna make any decision." Franklin said.

"Makes sense." O'Reilly said. "I say we adjourn this little battlefield meeting, grab some sleep and hook up tomorrow morning."

Without another word, Franklin got up and walked away.

"Think of that offer!" Feinstein said.

Franklin kept walking.

"Nice guy." O'Reilly said.

"Give the guy a break." Feinstein said. "He's been fucked over by the brass so many times, no wonder he doesn't trust anybody anymore, but you've had the right idea. We need to rest and try to figure this thing out. And hopefully stop the slaughter before it starts."

Franklin got into his car.

What started as a hunt turned into something much more complicated. A potential full scale mob war.

He looked at the time.

2am.

He did need some rest. He burned at the thought that he had Castle in his sights and that such an opportunity might not come again. Fatigue and discouragement fell over him.

Then he heard a voice, booming in his head: "Don't give up, boy. Never give up. They say there's no rest for the wicked. That means no rest for the people who fight evil and battle the wicked."

His father. A cop. A good cop. Shot dead. Murdered on his doorstep. And young Cleveland Franklin saw it. He was at the apartment window looking down. His father waved up at him. one sunny afternoon. A car drove by. Gunshots. The killers were never caught.

He remembered something his father told him one day. He'd asked why he didn't just shoot the bad guys with his gun. He did a long speech, but Franklin remembered the end of it:

"Evil is everywhere. Fight it. Always. Never give in to it. Fighting bad men is hard work, and it can get to you and get you frustrated. Never let it turn you into what you're hunting."

Franklin knew about Castle's family. Castle let it turn him into what killed his family. As angry as he was, Cleveland Franklin didn't let the darkness swallow him whole.

His father taught him many lessons. The most important one:

Never give up.

Castle was going down.

MANHATTAN

"Your apprehensions were correct." Black Widow said. "The families of the gangsters were murdered."

Castle said nothing. He thought of Maria and the kids. Wrong place, wrong time. Widow said the words with a neutral tone. She was a pro. He didn't care how she knew. Maybe all this high-tech stuff caught the message from the cops. Cold anger filled his gut.

"One more thing, Widow." Castle asked. "How did you get on this gig?"

"Fury. Through my own network of informants, I heard rumours about these men coming over, but Fury came to me and wanted me on this job."

"I didn't think Fury monitored crime that closely."

"I'm just full of surprises, Castle."

Castle and Romanov turned towards the familiar, gruff voice.

Nick Fury, director of SHIELD was standing in the shadows. Smoking a cigar, like always.

"Shoulda figured you'd be on to this thing, Castle." Fury said.

"I've been told I'm easy to figure out." Castle answered.

"You didn't announce this visit, Nick." Widow said.

"Yeah, well, had a fight with insomnia and lost." The one-eyed super-spy let out a cloud of smoke. "You know the deal now, Castle. You in or out? "

"Not much of a team player, Fury."

"Cut the hard-ass loner bullshit, Castle. This fucker has an army of assholes with him. You're gonna need help. I know you want this bastard, Castle. So do I. Fuck all the dick-measuring crap. I could use you and you could use back-up. It's like a one-night-stand: wham-bam-thank you, man. After this, we leave you alone."

Castle was silent for a moment.

"Ok. But answer me this-"

"Why is SHIELD on this gig?"

"Yeah."

"For one thing, SHIELD isn't. It's you, me and Widow. A couple others. Off the books. On the other hand…I got a few reasons. Other than the fact that the cocksucker in question is an evil, ruthless son of a bitch. Conventional cops might not cut it this time. And the realization that if we have the resources to run around the world, going after religious fanatics, rogue spooks, stolen nukes and badly dressed psychotic douchebags hell bent on ruling the world and in search of instant gratification for whatever fucking reason, well, we might have a little something to help make the streets safer. I'm a soldier, and a soldier's job to protect his own. That's it."

Castle nodded.

"Now" Fury said, "if we're done with all the metaphysical bullshit, you two catch some sleep and try to figure out what the fuck these assholes are gonna do next before New York turns into fuckin' Bosnia."

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN NYC

0808 HOURS

Viktor Rastovillich had just woken up. He was in his headquarters with several of his men. It was hidden and no-one knew of this place.

Piotr Tatamovich was also present.

"My sources tell me that the cops are on to us." Tatamovich said. "And that was The Punisher in Staten Island."

"The Punisher, eh?" Rastovillich said. "I heard of him. A hard man. He might be a problem. More so than the police."

"Indeed. We need to remove him. Cops can be handled, not this man."

"You're a smart man, you don't underestimate your enemy."

"Graveyards are filled with men who underestimated him. He's the American version of a suicide bomber. He's dangerous. He's a fucking maniac. He'll stand in the way of my plans."

"He's also methodical and well informed. And lucky. We'll have to be smart about how we trap him."

"That fucker needs to die, Viktor."

"To be able to kill him, I must know him, understand him. Why is he the way he is. He's not motivated by greed or power. So what is it, hate, love, revenge….Protecting the innocent? What do you know about him?"

"What everybody else knows…His family was murdered by gangsters over 30 years ago, shortly after he was back from Vietnam."

"His family?"

"Yeah, a bitch and two brats, I think."

"How about him? How far does he go in this war?"

"He kills mobsters, pushers, pimps, street gangs….No civilians, no cops."

"Hmm. I see."

"You have a plan do you?"

"I think I do. I'm going to need more help from you, though."

"Anything."

"Really? Anything?"

"I want this city. The Big Apple. I want it to be mine. I've been dreaming about it ever since I got here."

"And you think you can do it?"

"Yes. Or die trying. With Fisk out of the way, anything is possible."

"Fisk…You mean the Kingpin, do you? Big man in charge, in every sense of the word."

"Yes. He was brought down several months ago. He left a vacuum. Now, I want in. I've told you all this before. I will crush my competition and conquer this town. I will destroy whoever stands in my way. Not kill, not eliminate: DESTROY. And The Punisher is the way. Now, tell me about your plan."


	2. Part Two

MANHATTAN

0802 HOURS

After about five hours of his usual nightmare filled sleep, a shower and some breakfast, Castle was putting on his gear.

"I'm heading out, Widow." He said, putting a chin length raincoat over it all.

"We are wired into every database and are monitoring radio frequencies and cellular phone lines," the former KGB spy said. "And we have operatives set up at certain potential targets. If anything happens, we'll hear about it first."

"Sometimes, nothing beats a good street snitch."

"I agree. I intend to check on my own informants as well." Widow said.

"Besides, plenty on scum out there to keep me busy until these guys show up on radar. Might be a while."

"You never stop, do you?"

"No."

"Fanaticism consists in redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim. George Santayana." Widow said.

"He who doesn't punish evil commands it to be done. Leonard De Vinci." Castle answered. "Look, I've had this argument with your boyfriend in the red tights-"

"I'm not arguing your methods, mine are not that different. It's just…In many ways, you remind me of a white shark, killing on instinct. "

"I know what I am. I know what I'm doing. And why. In thirty years, I've never lost my focus. I never will."

"And you don't allow time for anything else."

"There is nothing else. I am what I do. I am my war."

Widow and Castle locked stares for a while.

"I got work to do." Castle said. "Call me on the radio if anything comes up."

"Of course. I'll be posted in Hell's Kitchen."

And The Punisher left.

BROOKLYN

1024 HOURS

Castle heard the call came in on the scanner on the way to rousting some snitches.

A murder in an apartment. The owners of a mom and pop pizzeria. An elderly Italian couple shot dead. For a fistful of dollars, nothing more. Typical robbery/homicide. It happened sometime during the night. In light of the Staten Island thing-which was getting serious media coverage but nothing on the Russian mercs-and in these post-9/11 times, Castle knew that not a whole lot of manpower would be put on this small case.

This was not the work of crime kingpins, but no crime was too small to escape Punishment. He thought of Maria and the kids. And this elderly couple that reminded Castle of a past life. His own family. His parents.

He thought of the mobsters' families.

Time to call in some favors. And investigate.

BROOKLYN

1643 HOURS

Castle was in a motel with a hooker. He was to pay her for her services. Information services.

Castle put two hundreds on the night table.

She went by the name Tiffany. Young, in her 20s, red-haired. Prettty, but showing signs of being used up already.

"So…you're the Punisher, huh?" She asked.

"Lucy told me you may have something for me."

Lucy was a street walker Castle once rescued from some drunken frat boys beating her up for thrills. Castle helped her get patched up and since then, she'd been feeding him info, every now and then. Lucy told Castle about Tiffany.

"Right." Tiffany said. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Your lungs."

"Right." Tiffany lit her cigarette.

"Okay." Tiffany started. "So these two guys pick me up around noon time today. They take me to a run down tenement building. They wanted a three way thing…They were drunk. Loud. When they finished, one of the guys hands me a necklace. He tells me he got it from some old bitch he killed in her sleep last night."

Castle's jaw tightened.

"Go on." He said.

"I didn't make nothing of it. Then I heard of the killings on the news later. I knew it had to be them."

"Could you describe them?"

"A couple big, white guys. In shape. They looked dangerous."

"Anything else?"

"I know where they might be."

"Excuse me?"

"They kept talking about meeting some guys somewhere. One guy asked the other if he still had the address. The guy said 'yeah, yeah' . They paid me. Triple my rate. Didn't even threaten me. Like they knew I wasn't gonna talk. But…those old people were nice…Of course, I didn't know if the cops would believe some junkie street whore…Anyway, one of them dropped this."

She handed Castle a small scrap of paper.

"That's where they said they were going. "She said. "It was like…I didn't matter…Like I wasn't even there."

"Thanks." Castle put two more hundreds and walked towards the door.

"Hey." Tiffany said.

Castle stopped.

"You gonna kill those motherfuckers, right?"

Castle looked her in the eye. "Yeah."

"Good." Tiffany said blowing out a cloud of smoke.

HELL'S KITCHEN

2347 HOURS

FLANAGHAN'S PUB

Natasha Romanov had no problem fitting with the Irish crowd in the bar. She was a dark blouse on top and a hip length leather jacket over hew Black Widow outfit. She looked like a babe in leather pants, sipping on drinks at the bar.

This bar was owned by one of the few crime bosses left in Hell's Kitchen. Thomas Flanaghan. Ruthless reputation. Dealt in drugs, extortion, prostitution. The usual. A good chance this outfit would be hit by Tatamovich and Rastovillich's forces.

She had a partner to watch the back door. She covered the front doors, in case Rastovillich's men were ruthless enough to cut down a few patrons, just to make a point. Flanaghan had several of his boys with him, in the back, but a lot of them having drinks with the patrons in the bar. Someposted as bouncers.

She was in Daredevil's home turf. The Man Without Fear. To Natasha, he was just Matt, possibly the most idealistic man she'd ever met. She was so used to the world of spies and killers, to meet a man so noble, so strong, who had firm values, who believed in the sanctity of all life…He was different. Despite adversity, despite losing everything at one point, and almost losing his mind, despite watching several of his women die one after the other, he always managed to go back to the man he truly was.

Then, there was Frank Castle.

In many ways, Matt's polar opposite. Bloodied by war before even becoming a vigilante. Cold. Emotionless. Ruthless. Castle was the kind of man she was used to. Children of the Cold War. Killers. Living in the shadows, gladly leaping into the abyss and becoming what they hunted.

But, there was something that both Matt and Castle shared: pain. Pain from their losses, pain from the guilt that had to come when you bore the crosses of man' evil like they did. In many ways, they were more alike than either cared to admit.

And Widow saw some of that in Castle's eyes, earlier, in HQ, when he almost let his armor down for a second or two. He almost allowed himself to be human for a short moment. Then he shut down and reverted back to killing machine mode. She wondered if-

Then she saw them walking in.

Two grim looking men in very long coats. Their features were East-European. Their eyes were cold. Romanov noticed Flanaghan's boys tensing up, their hands going under jackets. The bouncers started towards them.

It was going to happen.

ABANDONNED GARAGE

BROOKLYN

2347 hours

Castle had been sitting for several hours on this old garage. Sitting in the back of his non-descript van. Sometimes walking around the block, dressed as a vagrant, complete with fake beard and wig and some raggedy clothes.

Then. Contact.

He saw activity.

A bunch of guys laughing, carrying sports bags walking towards the abandoned

garage. He saw the bulges under their jackets. Guns.

Had to be them.

He checked his gear. A couple flash bangs. Twin Colt 45s and a SPAS Automatic shotgun. A couple of knives. A hideaway .44 Charters Arms Bulldog on his ankle.

He would pack light on this job. He stepped out of his van, crossed the street with his disguise and a pronounced limp, most of his hardware underneath a long, ugly, grey wool coat.

Time to go to work.

The Punisher palmed a flash bang and-

He heard a gunshot, it came from a rooftop. A sniper?

Someone came out of the garage, holding a silenced M-4 carbine with laser sights. Castle went down and sideways as the rounds sliced the air he occupied seconds before. He rose and aimed the SPAS and squeezed the trigger. The big weapon roared and spat fire and metal as 00-buckshot shattered the punk's kneecaps. The man screamed and Castle blew his head off with a rifled slug. The head exploded like a ripe tomato. More men came out, armed with serious military firepower.

The Punisher tossed them a flash-bang grenade. They yelled warnings in a language that Castle recognized instantly.

Russian.

Castle stayed down and covered his ears as the stun bomb went off. He went back to his feet and started blasting away at his opposition. One of them had his chest exploded by a shredder round. A couple of the others went back inside for cover, as the last two spread out and fired, catching Castle in a crossfire. His chest armor but held. Castle almost lost his footing as the wind was knocked out him.

He began to retreat towards his van across the street. He would be able to get-

A truck, a big cube blocked his way, and more men came out. They were wearing fatigues and goggles. A good half dozen of them. Castle squeezed and held the trigger at the new arrivals. One of them went down.

The Punisher was trapped between the guys in the garage and those in the truck.

Never losing his calm, he pulled out his twin .45s.

A trap. This was all a set-up from Rastovilich and Tatamovich to nail him. An elaborate set up.

And it looked like it might work.


	3. Part Three

LONG ISLAND

2347 HOURS

Leon Hu knew that being a Triad Brother and a bodyguard for boss Wong-Fei Lo was dangerous. He knew about gang wars. He killed his share of enemies.

But this was no gang war-this was pure war.

A dozen armoured SUVs crashing through the gates, men wearing full combat gear with assault rifles and grenade launchers, this was war.

The rumours were true, someone-possibly the Russians-were making a huge power play. Like in Staten Island. No one had ever done that before, as far as he remembered.

Big Boss Lo increased manpower to prepare for this. Would it be enough?

Leon watched as his brothers were cut down by automatic fire and blown up by the half dozen. These motherfuckers were hardcore. But so where the Triad brothers.

Oddly enough, Leon didn't feel scared. He felt at peace. Dying for Boss Lo was an honor. He was like a father to them all.

There was a human wall, also cars were put in as a roadblock-

Then something fucked up happened.

One after the other, the enemy cars were blowing up one after the other. The enemy soldiers were being blasted into dog meat. It added even MORE chaos and bloodshed to the existing carnage.

It was sheer hell. No, it was the apocalypse. The end of the world. Everything was blood and fire.

Then, it ended as quickly as it had started. The enemy was annihilated. The bulletproof vehicles reduced to scrap metal. All 12 of them.

Something caught Leon's eye. A large silhouette standing on the 12-foot wall surrounding the house, holding a very large weapon. Who-

Then Leon died.

He didn't live to see his brothers being destroyed by a hellish barrage of explosive automatic fire.

And then, soon, it was over.

THE MAN WHO JUST WIPED THE TRIAD HENCHMEN AND THE RUSSIAN HIT TEAM WENT BACK TO HIS CAR AND DROVE OFF. He was a large black man, with long dreadlocks and a beard. And wrap-around shades that were also aiming devices and were equipped with other modifications.

He had to meet with Fury. He had to admit he was glad he could be on the job. Gave him a chance to test his new weapons. A belt-fed automatic shotgun that fired C-4 shells. Experimental stuff. But the man didn't mind living dangerously.

J.R. Walker-know to a few as Shotgun wouldn't have it any other way.

BROOKLYN

ABANDONNED GARAGE

2352 HOURS

Castle double tapped one of the garage guys in the head.

This was a rundown part of town, full of rundown buildings and where cars on blocks were a trademark . No risk of collateral damage, at least.

He took more slugs in the chest as he bobbed and ducked, waiting for the automatic burst to blow his head off.

He was running back wards, with no cover, on a garage vacant lot, with ten heavily armed men closing in on him.

One of them had his head blown off.

The nine survivors turned. Castle rose his head.

Cleveland Franklin was standing on top of the Russians' truck, holding a USAS-12 gauge automatic shotgun, which looked like an M-16 on steroids, with a 20 round drum. Before they could fire back, two more men were gunned down, rib cages exploded by automatic shotgun fire.

"CASTLE!" Franklin yelled as he pulled off an assault rifle from his shoulder and tossed it to the Punisher. An M-4 carbine, while hosing down the rest of the Russians, one handed, with USAS, taking advantage of his high ground.

The vigilante caught it, took the safety off and got busy.

A long figure eight burst of .223 lead pills took down three more of the Russian hit squad.

The last four were caught in a cross fire between Franklin and Castle and were torn apart. They went down.

The stench of death and sulphur hung heavily in the air. The Marshal rolled off the truck and landed gracefully on his feet, rolled and was back up on one knee. Sometime during the fall and the roll, Franklin pulled out a stainless steel .454 Raging Bull Taurus revolver, with an eight inch ventilated barrel. The hand-cannon was aimed at Castle and was gleaming under the moonlight.

"Drop it!" Franklin shouted.

"We gotta stop meeting like this."

"Drop the fuckin' weapon!" Franklin was slowly getting up, .454 was rock steady.

"You realize the irony of making drop a weapon you gave to me."

"My job is to bring you in. I'd rather bring you in alive. I did what I had to. Put the rifle down, Castle."

"I can't do that, Franklin. Looks like we have stand off."

"What?"

"I won't kill you, you're a good cop. You won't kill me unless I threaten your life."

"I could wound you with the gun."

"I guess you could. How did you find me?"

"Played a hunch. I was right. The double homicide on that elderly couple would bring you out in the open. Now, I realize how far it went: it was a trap for you by

The Russian gangsters."

"I heard a gunshot."

"That was me. I was lookin', for you, so I scouted the best sniper spots around. I found one. There was a sniper there. I took him out. That was you heard."

"You did your homework."

"I told you already, Castle: I know how you think. For the Russian death squads, the feds and INTERPOL are in on it."

"Really? Anyway, looks like you weren't the only one to figure me out. These guys killed that elderly couple just to flush me out and take me down."

"Sorry, Castle. At least these bastards paid for it. But you, you still goin' to jail."

"Which brings us back to our stand off."

"Yeah, so I'll rephrase my previous order: put the fuckin' weapon down, or I'll blow your goddamn head off."

HELL'S KITCHEN

2348 HOURS

Widow pulled twin Glock 17 9mm pistols. She shouted: "Everybody down!" and fired a shot in the ceiling. Most of the patrons hugged the floor. Romanov crouched down.

The two men who just entered the bar pulled out silenced HK MP-5 sub machine guns from under their long coats. A few of gangster Flanaghan's men who were posted in the bar were reaching for guns, but too late.

One of the trench-coat wearing killers fired gunned down two thugs that had just gotten up to face them. The other hitman killed two more of Flanaghan's boys.

While they were distracted, the former KGB spy aimed each of her Glocks at one of the killers and fired both pistols. One shot each. Each of them took a slug in the forehead and had the back of their skulls exploded, spilling out brains and blood and they went down.

As quickly as it had started, it was over. No time for long drawn out Hollywood style gunfights. Quick and clean. Well, as clean as shattered skulls could be. She was headed for the back of the bar.

"Widow?" She heard in her earpiece.

"I'm here. I tagged two out here."

"The back's clear."

"I'll be right with you."

Seconds later, in the back room. The Black Widow saw the carnage. Eight dead. One wounded. And Nick Fury standing there with a smoking silenced M-4 carbine and a smoking cigar.

"I let' em out take this Flanaghan asshole and his buddies. Then I jumped them from behind."

"Not very fair, Nick." Widow teased.

"Fuck fair. I ain't Wyatt Earp, this ain't the fuckin' OK Coral. We'are at war and we have to eliminate this fuckers. I kept one alive. Maybe we can find out more on this fuckin' invasion."

"Good. Let's leave before the police come." Fury carried the unconscious hitman on his shoulders and out in the alley.

A new voice coming from overhead: "The police are the least of your problems."

"Who the fuck-." Fury said.

A crimson figure landed gracefully in front of Nick Fury and the Black Widow.

"Aw, fuck me." Fury said.

"You're not really my type, Nick." Daredevil said. " Natasha. You're looking good, as always."

"Funny." Widow said.

"Now then." Daredevil said. "You guys wanna tell me what the hell it is you think you're doing?"

BROOKLYN

2352 HOURS

"Who're you busting your ass for, Franklin?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Come on: you're risking your life to take me in, no back up, no partner, nothing. For what? To nail a guy who kills gangsters."

"You were a Marine once, Castle. You know about duty and orders. I have a job to do. I'm a cop. You're mass murdering fugitive. Things aren't that complicated."

"That cut and dry, huh? How many of these guys have you killed so far? How many have you killed in your career? "

"The fuck you're trying to do? Play mind games? You think I don't know how fucked up this is? You think I don't know I was sent on a borderline suicide mission to bring you in? You think I don't realize that I almost became like you just so I could do my job and keep it? You wanna know what the fuck it is I did to get this assignment?"

Castle remained silent. Franklin's voice was dripping with venom and anger.

"How about stumbling onto a gang rape? Five drunken pieces of shit on this one girl. A seventeen year old hooker. Melinda Roberts. Runaway girl from Ohio. How about beating all five of those motherfuckers within an inch of their lives and then learning that they are the sons and nephews of Senators and Supreme Court Justices? That's what I did. That's why I'm here, now, facing you. And I can't just resign and tell them to fuck off because this job is all I got. And I was raised never to give up. And they can't fire me, because I'm one the best god damn manhunters alive today. So here I am. You understand now?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm a cop, Castle. It's all I can do. I care about stopping crime and helping people. There are laws, there are rules, they have to be upheld. I broke a few here and there, but there's a line I never stepped over. You don't care about the line, but I do. So I'm here, now, asking you again to drop your weapon."

"I can't. You have a job to do. So do I. And it's a job the law can't handle. Not the way it should be. I'm sorry."

"God damnit-"

Castle ducked down, tossing his rifle at the marshal. Franklin fired. He missed. He had to raise his arms and block the flying weapon. He cursed out loud. He deflected the rifle and felt something land at his feet.

A flash-bang grenade. Franklin turned, leaped away and closed his eyes as it went off. The world turned white. When he opened his eyes again, Castle was gone. He heard screeching tires.

Franklin stood up, put the .454 back in its holster.

"Next time, Castle. And sooner than you think."


	4. Part Four

THE PUNISHER WENT TO HIS VAN quickly and drove off. Two close calls-The Russians and Franklin-were two too many.

A distant part of him had sympathy for Franklin. He was a good cop. Hard core. Tenacious. And smart. Or was it Castle that was too predictable. So predictable, that the enemy knew that killing those old folks and making sure that word went around who it was and where to they could be found.

This was a cunning and ruthless enemy.

They would have to be Punished.

He wondered how the rest of the operation went along.

HELL'S KITCHEN

2352 HOURS

"Look." Widow said. "There's a lot at stake here. We know you don't approve these methods."

"You damn right I don't." Daredevil said angrily. "This has anything to do with Staten Island? Why is SHIELD involved?"

"Look, hornhead. We don't have any fuckin' time for this shit." Fury said. "We're at war. We gotta wrap this up as fast as we can. We need to get shit done and we do it the hard way."

"Murder? Torture?" Daredevil said.

"Sometimes-"Fury started.

"Spare me the trite 'Ends justify the means' speech." The vigilante said. " I heard it enough from Castle. We're not going to change each other's minds. So put that man down, drop your weapons and maybe we can talk this over."

"Matt-" Widow started.

"Save it, Natasha. If it were anyone else than you two, they would have been knocked unconscious and locked up." Daredevil said. "I'm already being more courteous than I need to be. I won't ask again."

"Fuck this." Fury said, pulling out a small remote, still carrying his prisoner on his shoulders".

The following second, Daredevil was holding his head and screaming in pain. He went down on one knee.

Nick Fury walked over to the kneeling vigilante, said "Sorry about this." and kicked him in the jaw.

"Let's go." Fury said.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have had to resort to the ultrasonics." Widow said.

"Yeah, me too. Didn't have a choice. That guy is a stubborn son of a bitch. Let's get the fuck outta here."

Black Widow bent over to the unconscious Daredevil. "Sorry, Lover." And she kissed him gently. Then the spies were gone.

HARLEM

BLING-BLING NIGHT CLUB

2350 HOURS

Things could be a lot worse for Curtis Payton. He had concerns like anyone who moved drugs in the city. He heard about Staten Island and what happened to the guineas. But he beefed up security on his operations, especially the lab where his boys made crack, ice, crystal meth and all sorts of candy for all sorts of tastes.

But at that precise moment, he was in his private office, overlooking his night club, naked, with this sweet piece of blonde, white pussy in his leather couch.

He was used to all sorts of problems, so this new crisis would be taken care of. In his 34 years of life, he'd moved from selling weed in high school to movin' rocks on the block to being King Of Harlem. Wasn't no muthafucka that was gonna move him from where he was.

"Curtis…"He heard the bitch moan.

"Yeah, baby. I'm comin'."

Then, his cell phone rang.

"Curtis…"

"Hold on, baby. Gotta take care of some business first."

Payton took the phone:" Yeah?"

"You, CP, the factory was hit."

"The fuck you mean, it was hit?"

"Just what I said, ain't nuttin' left but ashes!"

"Nigga, you better not be fuckin' with me!"

"The fuck would I make this shit up for?"

"Shit! MuthaFUCKAS!"

"Curtis…"The girl moaned.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, I got some real fuckin' problems here! Who the fuck did this!"

"I don't know, man, this is fucked up."

Payton thought of the Punisher. This was his style. Or maybe whoever hit the wops at Staten Island. New player, making their move.

"Okay. Okay. Let's get our shit together and figure this shit out. We can fix this. Talk to you later." Payton said, getting a grip on his anger. He paced for a while after hanging up. Put on some pants.

"Sorry I disturbed you on your call." The girl said.

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I gotta-"

Two bullet bodies crashed through his doors. His bodyguards. The girl screamed.

"What the fuck-"

Then armed white men walked in his office. Four of them.

"Who the fuck are you muthafuckas? You know who you fuckin' with?" Payton screamed.

Then silenced automatic burst ripped his upper body apart.

"Oh…my God…"The girl said.

One of them walked over to her. The others reloaded. He said something to his friends in Russian.

"No." The woman said, her voice ice cold. "I won't go with you."

With lightning speed, she ripped out the man's Adam's apple with her right hand. Before the first man hit the ground, she leaped at another, right foot first and crushed his larynx.

The last two, real pros, overcame the shock of seeing a naked woman kill two men with her bare hands. But then they had their jugulars slit in one swift stroke. The woman had taken her second victim's knife from his gear. And the men died.

She had to move fast. She showered and washed off the blood of her victims of her. And put her dress and shoes back on.

She grabbed one of the dead men's pistols, a 9mm Beretta, and went on her way. She disliked firearms, but they did the job well sometimes.

She went through the back door. Saw the bodies of Payton's men. Then, she was in the alley. She run right in front of the parked SUV. The man sitting in it got out, holding a gun and got shot in the head.

Then, the woman quickly got behind the wheel of the SUV and drove away. She looked at her self in the rear-view mirror. She couldn't wait to remove the blonde dye and her make up and shower again. She wanted to look like herself again.

For now, go back to where Fury set up the meet.

Five dead Russian mercenaries. All in a night's work for Elektra.

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

NEW YORK CITY

MIDNIGHT

"What THE FUCK do you mean, they're not responding?"

Tatamovich was livid.

"Just what I said." Rastovillich said. "Several of my strike teams are not responding."

"So what the fuck does this mean? Did you ask for radio silence, anything like that?"

"They were supposed to get back to me on the radio once they were done."

"So what does it mean?"

"It means they're unable to respond."

"What? What do you mean? You mean they're dead, do you? They're dead, they fucked up, those super troops of yours. Best of the best. They got fucked in the ass by Punisher!"

"Look-"

"I risked everything, I invested all I have in this, and now, I have nothing! Nothing! "

Rastovillich got up.

"Calm down." He said.

"Fuck you!" Tatamovich said.

The mercenary leader grabbed grabbed the mobster by the neck.

"Listen to me, you snivelling little fuck! You didin't lose shit!"

Around, there were a few of Tatamovich's men about to react, but Rastovillich's men also tensed up.

"You didn't lose any fucking thing." Rastovillich snarled. "I lost my men. I lost good friends because you wanted to be the King shit of gangsters in New York City. Because of YOU, I lost some of the finest warriors ever, so you shut the fuck up about your losses!"

The ex-Spetznaz man tossed the gangster aside, coughing and gagging. Then, after a few seconds.

"So now what the fuck do we do?" Tatamovich said.

"Now, we need to regroup and get ready. We need to fortify this place. They could be coming here next."

"Here? How the fuck would they know to come here? Who is 'they'?"

"You moron. We set the trap for The Punisher and launched the attacks on the other gangs at the exact same time. The other teams were intercepted while Castle was fighting for his life. Which means my men were ambushed by others!"

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. Castle wasn't alone. And there's always a chance he could show up here soon. We have to prepare. You want to leave?"

"No! I want to see that fucker die with my own eyes."

"For once we agree."

SHORTLY AFTER MIDNIGHT

TEMPORARY SHIELD BASE OF OPS

MANHATTAN SKY RISE

The Punisher, Black Widow, Shotgun, Elektra and Nick Fury were all in the conference room.

Fury was standing up and talking.

"Ok. You took a second to get acquainted. Besides, most of you know each other, or know of each other, so let's move on. I think tonight we put a hurt on Tatamovich and Rastovillich. We seriously reduced their numbers. I knew I was right to get set up this little crew of bad asses. Good job."

Castle looked around the table. He knew Shotgun from Viet-Nam and they have met a few times since while on the job. He knew Elektra well. Very well. The Punisher preferred working alone, but if he had to work with others, he would rather do it with some serious pros like these.

He looked at the group's body language. There was something going on between Elektra and Black Widow. Not hostility exactly, but something, like they were sizing each other up. He then remembered they'd both been Daredevil's women. Maybe they hadn't met before.

"It ain't a complete shut out." Fury said. "They took out a couple drug labs. They also wiped out Vic Soledad.'s outfit out in the Bronx."

"Soledad was one of the major coke movers on the East Coast." Castle said.

"A great loss for mankind, then." Elektra said.

"Also." Fury said. "They took out a few dozen gang-bangers."

"As good as we are, we need more manpower." Widow said. "Couldn't you spare a few SHIELD agents?"

"I'm working on getting us reinforcements." Fury said. "But like I told you guys before, this is black bag. Even I got bosses. They got wind of me using SHIELD as a government funded vigilante squad, it could be my ass. I'm too fuckin' old to consider career changes and sure as shit don't feel like movin' to fuckin' Florida with all the other geezers. I'm funding this with confiscated money from different Hydra and AIM ops SHIELD shut down. We gotta keep it off the books, which is why I called out to you guys. Well, except Castle."

"So what's next, Fury?" Shotgun asked.

"We have one of these assholes in a holding cell here." Fury said. "We make him talk, see what he knows. We're dealing with some cold blooded fuckers here, people. That trap they set for Castle should be a clue to that."

"What about the cops?" Castle asked.

"I know about the FBI/INTERPOL task force." Fury said. "They're gonna be pissed when they hear about this shit in the news, same as everybody else. But this is a black bag op. We can do shit they can't. This ain't about pride, this is about results."

Fury took sucked in his on his cigar.

"There's gonna be a lot more killing if we wanna win this thing. I wanna know if you're all still in."

"Nick, look at the people in this room." Widow said. "Do you think anyone here has any problem with killing?"

"You got a point." Fury said. "I guess I should rephrase that. Anybody wants out?

You get paid, no harm no foul."

"I ain't got nuttin' on my agenda for a couple weeks, Fury." Shotgun said. "I'm in."

"I want to see this through." Widow said.

"I'm in for as long as needed." Elektra said.

There was a silence. They all looked at Castle.

"Castle?"

The Punisher got up. Nodded. And said.

"Everybody go to sleep. I'm gonna have a talk with the prisoner."

LONG ISLAND

0103 HOURS

"This feels fuckin' familiar." Feinstein said.

"Triad boss is still alive. He lost a lot his bodyguards, though. Heard it was as bad as Staten Island." O'Reilly answered.

"Great fuckin' thing to wake up to in the dead of night."

They made it to yet another estate turned war zone.

"Christ." Feinstein said.

A uniformed cop approached them. "It's pretty bad." The cop said. "Apparently, this place was hit harder than the others."

"Others?" Feinstein said.

His cell phone rang. "Yeah? What? Brooklyn **and** Harlem **and** The Kitchen? What? Fuuuuck me. Ok. Yeah."

Feinstein hung up.

"There other places that were hit." Feinstein said. "Same scenario. Dead gangsters. At some places, a lot of dead Russian hit men."

"Yeah." The uniformed cop said. "I remember dispatch was freaking out. Just before midnight. Everywhere was being hit at once."

"Holy shit." Feinstein said. "They were making a big fuckin' move."

"And they were intercepted a **few** times." O'Reilly said.

"Has to be Punisher." Feinstein said.

"Sure. At one of those places. But he can't be everywhere at once." O'Reilly said.

"So he has help. Usually, he works alone, but this IS pretty fuckin' big. Christ, we gotta worry about a bunch of armed vigilantes on top of that."

"This case is gonna be more painful and nerve wracking than a Ben Affleck film festival." O'Reilly said.

"I hope it doesn't get THAT bad." Feinstein said. "Do we look like a bunch of assholes or what? God damn it. I hate this."

Feinstein's phone rang again. He took it.

"Feinstein here. Yeah. What? Where? Holy shit. Don't move. We'll be right there." He hung up.

"What was that about?" O'Reilly said.

"That was Cleveland Franklin." Feinstein answered." He has a prisoner."

"Who?" O'Reilly asked.

"One of them. One of the Russian killers. In custody in a Brooklyn cop shop." Feinstein answered.


	5. Part Five

BROOKLYN STATION HOUSE

0143 hours

Franklin was there along with a few detectives. Franklin made the introductions quickly. Then, he got down to business.

"I had a tip on where I could find Castle." Franklin told Feinstein and O'Reilly. "While scouting the area, I found this guy in a sniper position. I disarmed him and knocked him out."

"What about Castle?" Feinstein asked.

"He was there. He and I shot it out with the mercs-". Franklin said.

"You guys teamed up?" Feinstein said.

"Yeah." Franklin answered. "The guys were there for Castle. Some kind of ambush. When it was all over, I tried to bring Castle in He...resisted arrest and got away."

"Damn." O'Reilly said. "This is too weird. Like that movie, where the cop and the hitman join forces against the bad guys."

"The Professional?" Feinstein said.

"No, that was the one where the hitman helped the little girl get revenge on Gary Oldman."

"Right, right…"Feinstein said. "The Specialist?"

O'Reilly: "God, you suck. That was a Stallone movie-"

Feinstein: "He was a bomb expert, you're right. Oh! Oh! You mean 'The Killer'!"

O'Reilly: "That's the one. That had some cool action scenes. Impossible, but cool."

Franklin broke in: "If we can get the prisoner to talk before he lawyers up, we could find the rest of these bastards."

"And where these bastards are-" Feinstein said.

"Castle might be." O'Reilly said.

"That's how I see it." Franklin said. "You called the INTERPOL guys? They might wanna be in on this."

"They called us." Franklin heard behind him. It was Peter Niemans, the one with the short beard. He was with Arkady Danko, his partner, the big, clean shaven, Russian. Neither looked that were torn out of a deep sleep.

Danko:" I can tell you from experience, these men are hard to crack."

Niemans: "That is a reason why Rastovillich is so elusive."

Feinstein: "Maybe we can deal."

Mason, a local detective, said." That would be hard. What do we have on him? A weapon's possession charge. Like I was telling Franklin, we can't prove why he was there. It's all circumstantial. "

Lewis, his partner, said. "Maybe you could discuss this with him in private. Show him the error of his ways…"

Danko: "Such…talks…do not always have results. These are hard men. They have murdered and tortured dozens in their lifetimes. They live with the threat of death and capture."

Niemans: "And if there is not much to hold them with, well, they have very little to fear. Not too mention near fanatical loyalty to their leader."

Feinstein.: "So we're not even gonna try?"

Franklin:" Maybe we should."

MANHATTAN

SHIELD OPS CENTER

0143 HOURS

Castle admired the prisoner's toughness. After having broken his ten fingers and toes, and working those, the man refused to talk. He screamed plenty. He even spat in The Punisher's face once.

Very tough man. He was naked and tied to a chair in a sound proofed room.

Castle had a small table with several tools and utensils. Also several adrenaline shots. In case the stupid bastard decided to go into a coma or something. That would be a pain in the ass.

He took out a pair of pliers. He told the man, in Russian:

"I am going to rip out your teeth. One by one." Castle said. "I take no pleasure from this. I will torture you until I break you. You will not die. You will not be allowed to die. Pain is all there will ever be in your existence."

The man didn't answer. No bravado. He was saving his strength. The man's eyes had the same resolve.

"I am patient." The Punisher said. "I am not tired. My only limits are those of my imagination."

Castle thought of the victims of this gang war. The families of the mobsters. The children.

The old couple that was killed in Brooklyn just to draw him out.

Wrong place, wrong time. Like The Castle family.

And those were the thoughts that kept his fatigue at bay.

"Very well." Castle said. "Let's continue."

BROOKLYN STATION HOUSE

0146 HOURS

Feinstein, O'Reilly, Danko, Niemans and Franklin went downstairs to the holding cells to talk to their prisoner.

Danko walked over to the prisoner who was laying on his bed. They exchanged a few words in Russian. The prisoner then said something.

"That…"Niemans said. "was a mistake."

Danko grabbed, one handed, the man by the collar, yanked him off the bad and shoved him against a wall.

"What did he say?" Feinstein asked.

"He threatened Danko's family. "Niemans said.

Danko lifted the man off the floor. More Russian.

Feinstein and O'Reilly were nervous. Franklin was watching silently.

Danko let go of the man. The man laughed and said more words.

"We will get nothing out this man." Danko said, disgusted.

"Couldn't we deal?" Feinstein said. "Offer immunity?"

"He fears Rastovillich more than he fears the American justice system." Danko said. "He believes Rastovillich can find him wherever he goes. It is not that far from the truth."

"Damn it." O'Reilly said. "So now what?"

Niemans said. "There is not much to do."

"So we got nothing!" Feinstein said. "Nothing but the biggest body count in recent years and a prisoner who won't talk."

"Maybe we should try harder." Franklin said.

Feinstein: "What do you suggest, Franklin? The phone book therapy? Torture? We're not fuckin' savages! This isn't some fuckin' third world dictatorship. And if word ever got out in the media…"

O'Reilly: "There isn't shelter big enough to cover us from that shit storm."

Feinstein: "I'm already afraid of the public reaction to the night's events."

Franklin: "So that's it. We've lost."

Feinstein: "We have rules and laws, Franklin. It's what prevents us from turning into them."

Franklin: "You're right. I agree. It's just…"

Feinstein :"We'll get another lead. We'll get something. For now, rest. You're running yourself ragged, Franklin. Get some sleep."

Franklin: " Yeah."

MANHATTAN

SHIELD OPS CENTER

0152 Hours

It occurred to Castle, after the fourth tooth, that the man would have trouble talking, so he stopped.

The man still showed no signs of cracking.

This proved to be hard work. But The Punisher knew a hard ass when he met one. Before the interrogation began, he knew it'd be hard.

"Very well." Castle said, still in Russian. "Now, let's work on your articulations."

The Punisher grabbed a wireless power drill.

And he got back to work.

ELEKTRA WAS IN HER quarters, meditating, trying to find her center. Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." She said.

It was Black Widow.

"Can't sleep either?" Romanov said.

"Who needs sleep?" Elektra said, offering a chair.

"It's odd." Romanov said. "I know so much about you. I actually helped rob your corpse and fought with the Hand to defend it. "

"You'll forgive me if I don't remember that." Elektra said. And smiled.

Widow allowed herself a smile. Elektra said:

"At the briefing, Fury said you and he ran into Matt."

"We did. Fury used the ultrasonic device on him and then knocked him out."

"That's what happened?"

"Yes."

"Matt will be...aggravated."

"I know that. We'll cross that bridge when we reach it."

Silence.

"Matt was insanely in love with you." Widow said.

"He loved you as well."

"No. You were the one. Or perhaps Karen Page."

"Maybe…I warned him about me. I had a darkness in me. That was unleashed when I watched my father die in a random act of violence. But even when I became everything he despised, even I did everything to drive him away, he was there. He never let go."

"Matt is…passionate."

"He's troubled and has his own demons. But still remained the most noble man I've ever met. And my only love."

"He wouldn't be happy about us working with The Punisher."

"The Punisher is something else…"

"You've met him before?"

"We had an affair."

"Really?"

"A one night thing. I was intrigued."

"I would think a man like him would give up on…earthly pleasures."

"He has…Mostly. I think he and I had a lot in common. I think pain, rage and hate have swallowed that man's soul. He lives in the abyss and doesn't mind that. He knows what he is and accepts. He knew what I was and accepted it. It was more a joining of wounded souls than anything."

"Interesting."

Silence.

Widow: "He's torturing that man right now."

Elektra:" Is that a problem?"

Widow: "I disagree with the method. But we need information. And we have no time for anything else. I don't think I could go through with it. I've done interrogations, I've used deceit, violence, seduction…But torture…"

Elektra: "We're at war. War is an ugly thing."

Widow: "The worst part is we'd have a hard time doing anything else with our lives. It's in our blood."

Elektra: "It's fate."

Silence.

Widow: "Fury is here for duty Shotgun is here for the money. I'm here for both. Castle has his reasons. How about you?"

Elektra :" Working for Fury, I always feel like I'm doing some good. And when I asked him who else would be with us, he mentioned a few names. When he said yours, I said yes."

Widow: "Me?"

Elektra: "I guess I was curious about you, the way you were about me."

Silence.

Widow :"Maybe we could see each other, once all this is done. Get to know each other."

Elektra :"As…friends?"

Widow: "Of course."

Elektra: "I would like that. I have few friends. Hard to maintain any kind of relationship in this line of work."

Widow: "Don't I know it. All we have to do is survive this insanity."

Elektra: "There's that."

WHEN THE PRISONER'S LEFT EYE BURST INTO a splatter of blood, the damaged man put everything he had into the scream.

"You don't understand, do you?" Castle said in Russian in a graveyard voice. "I'm rage. I'm vengeance. I'm an inexhaustible well of pain and violence. I have nothing but my war. It's all there is for me."

The man's good eye looked up. Something was creeping up in it.

Terror.

Sheer Terror.

Castle saw that the man was beginning to understand the madness that was unleashed upon him. It wouldn't stop. Castle was holding the small welding torch, the one used often to repair electronic components. It served other purposes.

"Do you see now? Do you see what your kind has set upon the world?" Castle asked. " Men like you murdered my family. Men like you murdered me. I'm…the man who punishes. Your comrades have murdered innocent people. I cannot find them, your comrades. So I punish you. I will keep punishing you until you tell me where they are. And maybe, maybe, you shall earn the sweet release of a quick death."

The man didn't answer. He was quivering. Coughing, vomiting blood.

"No answer." Castle said.

More coughing. More blood.

"Maybe I'm wrong."

Coughing. Blood.

"Maybe you realized what you were." Castle said. "Maybe you believe you deserve this. Maybe you do not feel like you have paid enough. Maybe you are a religious man and you believe in redemption. Very well. Who am I to stand in the way of your expiation."

The Punisher brought the small welding tool close to one of the man's testicles. The man flinched but said nothing.

"Still no answer?"

The man was trying to breathe. It seemed painful.

"How must I interpret your silence? You agree with my opinion? That you deserve more pain."

Fear, madness and pain were in the man's good eye. Somehow, the tear ducts were still intact, and Castle saw tears.

"All right, then. Let us continue."

"NO!"

Of all the sounds the man had made, that resounding "no" was the loudest.

"What was that?" Castle asked.

"No…no more…"

Coughing. Blood.

"I'm not sure I heard you right." Castle said.

"I will….I will talk. "

"Talk?"

"Yes…"

"About what?"

"I will tell you…about…where to…find…Rastovillich…."

More coughing. More blood.

"Ah. Good." The Punisher said.

Then the Punisher dressed the man's wounds, gave him morphine. The man seemed confused now. He wasn't used to tormenters helping their victims. Castle just need the man to be well enough to answer.

"All right, my friend. Tell me what you know."

SOMETIME LATER, PUNISHER LISTENED to the man's story. He made him repeat it three times. Each version was identical to the other . He took notes.

"If you lied." The vigilante said. "I will Punish you even more."

"I swear, it's the truth…."

"I hope it is. For your sake."

CASTLE STEPPED OUT OF THE CELL.

He would need to shower. But all the work actually paid off. He knew that the cell had cameras, that everything was recorded.

Fatigue crashed on him like a ton of bricks. He was tired.

The man's screams. The man's blood. Castle's family's blood. The faces of countless victims of the last decades. He could almost hear the screams of the mobster's families in Staten Island. The screams of that elderly couple. Calling out to him. Blaming him. Screaming for vengeance. Seeking Punishment for the guilty.

Rest. Sleep. Fatigue brought sloppiness and mistakes. Mistakes cause the wrong people to get hurt.

For now, rest.

BROOKLYN

0204 HOURS

Franklin was sitting in his car few feet away from the cop shop.

Once again, he was at a crossroads.

He could go to the thug that was being held prisoner in there and beat some answers out of him. That would lead him to Rastovillich, Tatamovich and their army of murderers. That could stop the coming gang war and lead him to the Punisher.

Or he could sit and wait for better leads.

Be a thug and care only about results. Be a cop and care about ethics.

How far was he willing to go to see that justice was done? Breaking the law?

What should he do?


	6. Part Six

MANHATTAN

SHIELD OPS CENTER

CONFERENCE ROOM

0600 HOURS

Fury was looking around the table at his…posse, like they would say in old westerns. He looked at his watch. He expected his reinforcements to show up at any time. He lit his cigar and puffed on it a couple of times.

"All right, people." Fury said pulling out a remote control. "Let's start the day off right and watch some news."

A wide screen TV was turned on, and there was a new broadcast on:

"_In what can only be described as one of the bloodiest examples of gang warfare in recent history, several suspected members of different alleged criminal organizations were murdered last night, all over the city. The police refuse to comment, though our sources confirm that the night's carnage claimed around 200 lives in all. This could very well be connected to the slaughter that happened less than 30 hours ago in Staten Island. That incident also claimed the lives of dozens of people allegedly linked to organized crime. The mayor and the Chief of the New York Police Department will make a press conference later today."_

"We gotta move fast." Fury said simply. "We have a headstart on the cops, but it's a matter o' time before they can get their shit together and catch up."

"Mayor's gotta be pissed." Shotgun said. "This gang war's gonna hurt the tourism industry. Huh. Wonder what Giulaini's thinkin' right now."

"He may have cleared out the hookers and the squeegee bums." Castle said. "He may have cleaned the graffiti off the walls-"

"Nevermind the new fuckin' smokin' laws. Can you believe that shit?" Fury said.

Castle finished: "-the real scum are still there. They simply became more careful. More underground."

"Uh huh." Shotgun said. " If I didn't know better, Frank, I'd say you a bit annoyed by that."

Castle shrugged. "I just have to look harder to find them."

"And the time wasted looking for them is time you could use to kill more of them, right?" Widow said, with a subtle hint of irony in her voice. "Cuts down on your time-efficiency, doesn't it?"

"Right." Castle said. "Nice to be with surrounded by people who understand me."

Shotgun let out a chuckle. "You somethin' else, Frank. You really are somethin' else."

Elektra listened quietly without comment. She looked detached. Distracted. If Fury didn't know better, he'd think that she was bored and couldn't give a fuck about all this. But he knew her senses were fully alert and sharp as a katana.

"Hey, what about that bad ass US Marshal dude?" Shotgun asked. "The one huntin' my man down? What's up with him?"

"Franklin?" Fury said. "No news from him. I did hear the cops had a prisoner like we did."

"You are spying on the police?" Widow asked.

"I'm a spy, Romanov. "Fury said. "That's what spies do. Sometimes, the ends justify the means. You know that better than anyone."

"Unfortunately, I do." Widow said. "You think their prisoner talked?"

"Unlikely." Fury said.

"Yeah. Most cops ain't got Frank's way with words." Shotgun said. "Or with power tools."

"Even if they had the info, even if the asshole did spill his guts." Fury said. " Once they knew what they were up against, they'd did need some serious time assembling the manpower and the firepower to take them out. And armoured vehicles, and the whole fuckin' shebang."

"Do we know where the enemy is?" Widow asked.

"Glad ya asked, Romanov. Thanks to Castle's interrogation techniques, we got some solid intel."

Fury once again clicked on a remote control. The picture on the screen changed.

"This is a satellite picture of where the fuckers are stashed away. This is based on the info…uh…volunteered by our prisoner." Fury said. "One of the storage warehouses near the waterfront. As you can see, there's a lot of them. A hell of a lot. Between 100 and 150. Heavily armed. Most of these assholes have special forces training."

"And they got enough guns to make Charlton Heston jealous." Shotgun said. "I suppose we got SHIELD to thank for them pictures?"

"You could say that." Fury said.

"I don't mean to nag and repeat myself. " Black Widow said. "But-"

"We need some back up. I agree. " Fury said.

An electronic alarm rang in the room. The image on the screen changed again. It showed helicopters landing on the rooftop. Fury grinned widely around his cigar.

"And here they are." Fury said. He turned the screen off.

After several minutes –of what Fury knew were security verifications – the door to the conference opened. Everybody in the room recognized the new arrival. It was hard not to. The skin-tight silver outfit, the long white-silver hair, the cold and determined blue eyes, the swagger and confidence of someone who's faced and defeated many of the most dangerous people in the world. And because of that, BECAME one of the most dangerous people in the world.

Shotgun smiled:" This gig just keeps getting' better and better."

Fury observed the group's reaction. Castle almost raised an eyebrow, which was his version of screaming "Holy shit!"

Black Widow was almost as unreadable, but Fury saw signs that she approved.

Elektra smiled. She looked detached and amused at the same time. Even if she weren't the world's top assassin, she'd still be a weird fuckin' broad.

Fury.:" I think all of you recognize Silver Sable. You know everybody here, Sable?"

The world famous mercenary scanned the room.

"Interesting group you have here, Fury." Sable said. "I could retire out of the bounty hunting business bringing in any ONE of these people to some interested clients."

"I'd love to see you try, babe." Shotgun said.

Sable seemed to brush off Shotgun's retort.

"But, even if I am a paid professional" Sable went on, "This man we're after is the sort of man my father hunted when he started this business, over 60 years ago. "

"War criminals." Widow said.

"Exactly." Sable said.

"Appreciate you answerin' the call as fast as you did, Sable. "Fury said.

"When I get a call from the head of SHIELD, I can manage to clear my agenda." Sable said. "I also managed to a few of my best soldiers. No rookies. All battle tested, experienced warriors."

Fury knew all about Sable's Wild Pack. They weren't all present.

There was a slender Asian woman. Her hair cut short. Amy Chen. Born during the war in Vietnam. Her parents were killed by American soldiers which sold her off to become a sex slave. She freed herself by killing her captors and since then became an assassin. Until Silver Sable International came along and recruited her. Expert martial artist and swordswoman.

A muscular Latino man was next to her. Short hair, goatee. Raul Quintano. Born in East L.A.. Where he was known as G-Wiz (Gangsta Wizard) for his skills at fixing up anything electronic and mechanical. Former street thug and prize fighter. Recruited by Silver Sable International when they decided to tap his potential. Street smart and tough.

Then there was the man known as Crippler. Subtle nickname. Big, muscular guy with a good heart and a sadistic edge. Good marksman ship, but likes to beat people up with his batons.

"You briefed them?" Fury said.

"When you send someone to what could be their death, they deserve to know why." Sable said. "I also made sure they were all single with no children and no families."

"So there wouldn't be shattered families because of this job? Or relatives wanting to find out what happened to their kin?" Widow asked.

"That." Sable said. "Plus it's cheaper for my company to arrange funerals that will have no attendees."

Shotgun chuckled.

"You're all heart, Sable." Fury said.

"Only if I can afford to be. " Sable said. Then the irony left her voice. "Do we know where they are? Do we have a plan?"

"We were workin' on that when ya got here" Fury said, "So have a seat and let me fill ya in."

"Do we get hurt people?" Crippler asked.

"Oh, yeah." Fury said.

"Sweeeeeeeeeeet. When do we start." Crippler asked.

Chen remained expressionless. Quintano shook his head. This seemed like a tired routine for them. It lightened up the atmosphere some. Even Widow cracked a small smile. Elektra kept her look of detached amusement.

Castle was cold and unreadable. The ultimate buzz kill.

"Fury." He said. " We have work to do. And maybe little time to do it."

That voice killed and chilled the atmosphere. It became at once sombre and business like.

"All right, troops." Fury said. "Let's look at that plan."


	7. Part Seven

0700 HOURS

Feinstein grunted as his cell phone woke him up.

"Feinstein." The federal agent said in a hoarse voice.

"This is Detective Mason, NYPD. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah. You're the guys who have the Russian prisoner guy, are you?"

"That's' what I called about. He's gone."

Feinstein paused. Blinked. Then became wide awake.

"The fuck you mean, he's gone." The FBI man snapped.

"They took him."

"They? Who the fuck is 'they'."

"Has to be the Russians. The ones trying to take over the New York crime scene. Maybe they came to get their man so he wouldn't talk or something."

"Where, at the station house?" Feinstein couldn't believe it. Could this case get any more fucked up?

"Yeah. They came during the night. Couple guys, ski masks, smoke bombs, flash bangs and grabbed the fucker and left."

"Jesus. How many cops died?"

"That's the fucked up thing, Agent Feinstein. None were seriously hurt. They used riot gear. Tear gas and rubber bullets. These fuckers have been tearing through gangsters, civilians and cops for the past day, now they're using nonlethal gear. They went out their way to spare the cops."

"This doesn't make any-" Feinstein stopped. "Holy shit."

"What?"

"Castle. Has to be."

"The Punisher? You think he came to get that guy?"

"He wants those bastards as bad as we do, Mason. Son of a bitch. He has this thing about not killing cops. That HAS to be it."

"Yeah." Mason said "I can see it too."

"Jesus H. Christ." Feinstein said. "Okay, Mason, sit tight, I'll call my partner and the Interpol guys. We'll be right down."

"Got it."

Feinstein rubbed his face, incredulous. That crazy bastard actually broke into a fucking cop shop and busted a guy out. Feinstein didn't want to think of what Punisher might do to get information. He'd heard stories…

Fuck that. Feinstein had to call his partner O'Reilly and then Danko and Niemans, the INTERPOL guys.

0700 HOURS

Franklin's shrill cell phone ring snapped him out of his sleep. He was in a nearly run down hotel in the Bronx. The big US Marshal almost never got calls.

"Franklin."

"Marshal Franklin, this is Danko, from the INTERPOL."

Franklin sat up in his bed. He remembered the big muscular Russian cop.

"Yeah? What is it, Danko?"

"I have something you might want to see. It is beneficial to both of us."

"You got leads on Castle or Rastovillich?"

"Yes. Come to this address."

"Wait." Franklin took a pen and paper and wrote down the address. "Maybe we should call the cops and feds."

"They're already on the way."

"Ok. I'll be right there as soon as I can."

Danko hung up.

Franklin got up, showered, got dressed. He put on his shoulder holster with the .454 Raging Bull Taurus revolver and ammo. He carried a .45 acp Glock 21 on his hip. A small .357 magnum Python on his ankle.

His usual outfitting. In the trunk of his car, he had a small arsenal. His own USAS automatic shotgun. And a few confiscated assault rifles from the Russian thugs he took down. M-16s. H&KS.

On the way, he stopped by a drive-thru. Ordered coffee and some breakfast.

He hadn't slept much. He spent most of the night thinking of what he was doing. How he got to this point in his life, in his career. A certain bitterness threatened to creep into his thoughts and consciousness. But he didn't let it. He couldn't be bitter and cynical. That would be an easy way out. His father raised him better than that.

Franklin believed in the Law. He believed in Justice. Those iron clad beliefs weren't going anywhere. Instilled early by his father and reinforced when his father was gunned down on his own doorstep.

But what was Justice? Was it a higher calling, a worthier cause than the Law? Could you achieve it outside of the Law? Was Castle, and all those other vigilantes ruling the night in New York and elsewhere _right_?

It couldn't be. What would be the difference between Franklin and his prey if he went down that road. He almost went into that Brooklyn cop shop to beat some answers out of the prisoner. He's been rough with bad guys before, But he decided against it. Something would break this case. It had to.

Franklin was done with his breakfast and coffee by the time he made to where he was supposed to meet Danko, Niemans, Feinstein and O'Reilly.

He found a rundown building. His phone rang again.

"You're at the right place, Marshal Franklin." Danko said without introduction. "Go into the building. Take the stairs down."

He did as he was told. This building was deserted. Not even rats or 'roaches.

He felt the reassuring weight of the cannon under his left armpit. He found the right door. Something wasn't right. He pulled his .454.

He knocked. "It's Franklin."

"Come in." It was Danko.

He expected everything but what he saw.

The prisoner was strung up by his ankles, naked. Several cuts and bruises all over his body. Some burns. The man's face looked like hamburger. He had electrodes wired to his testicles and head. Another man was sitting at a table operating the torture device. Bespectacled. Caucasian. He looked like an accountant. Danko and Niemans were there. Sleeves rolled up. Another man was standing in the shadows. He was tall, over six feet, slender. He had thick black hair and deep brown eyes. He was wearing a Beretta under each armpit in a shoulder rig.

"What the fuck…"Franklin started.

"We know how this looks." Niemans said. "But this was necessary."

"You…you broke him out." Franklin said.

"Another necessary evil." Danko said. " Rastovillich has spilled too much innocent blood. He must be shut down."

"How..Who…"Franklin was dizzy. This was too much to accept all at once. Then he came back. " Did you kill any cops? Breaking him out?"

"Not one." Niemans said.

"I don't think we even broke any bones. We're not savages, Marshal. We seek retribution. Justice."

"Who are you?" Franklin said.

"We can't reveal too much." Danko said. "We're part of a group of people that deals with this sort around the world… We are…free of many of the restrictions of the law."

"Are you guys vigilantes?" Franklin said.

"Does it really matter, Marshal Franklin?" Danko asked.

"Does it really matter?" Franklin shouted. "Are you fuckin' crazy? You can't fuckin' operate like that, like a fuckin' Gestapo! This may be a piece of shit, but you can't just…grab people and torture them!"

"Neither can we let this man and other like them murder and maim innocent people so he can sell poison on the streets and profit from prosititution." Niemans said.

"You motherfuckers…" Franklin said. "You're worse than Castle."

"The Punisher?" The Oriental man said, pulling a long drag on his cigarette. "We understand him. Nobody should do what he does. What we do. But this is the reality of the situation. This is war. There's little room for mercy for this kind of scum." He said pointing at the strung up man.

"You're insane…" Franklin said.

"Are we?" Danko said. "You've seen what Rastovillich is capable of. You've seen the damage he's caused. He's completely ruthless. He's worked for crime lords and warlords everywhere. He's done everything from helping train death squads to hiring out to organized crime. He's left a trail of blood and corpses all over the worlds, him and his army of thugs. Men, women and children. He's murdered policemen and their families. That has to stop."

"And where Rastovillich is, The Punisher will be." Niemans said. "You will more than likely be able to arrest him. If him and his allies have a guest like we do…He may know what we know."

"Why me?" Franklin asked. "Why reach out to me?"

"We read up on you." The Oriental man said. "You walk on the edge. Your superiors are blackmailing you for your job. We can free you off all of that."

Franklin was silent. Then, realization hit.:" Join you. You want me to join you."

"Yes, we do." Danko said. "You despise crime and criminals. You can barely do your job and respect the law at the same time. Plus, we can free you from the hold your superiors have on you. That story with the thugs who raped that young girl. The ones you beat half to death. Rightfully so. We can make that go away."

The Asian man spoke: "The people we work for understand men like you. Even men like Castle. All of us, here, were cops like you. All of us had to deal with red tape and corrupt bosses. Some of us even lost a lot…before walking this path."

There was silence. Maybe all of them lost someone to crime. And impunity.

"We don't claim to be heroes." The Asian Man continued. "Maybe we're villains. Monsters like what he hunt and kill. We're past that point. We do what must be done. We may not be good, but the world is better off without men like Rastovillich."

"He's evil." Niemans said. "You can help us crush him."

"If not? Then what? You guys kill me?" Franklin said. "Do some memory warping voodoo so I forget all of this?"

"We let you go." Danko said.

"Just like that?" Franklin said.

"We won't kill a solider on the same side as us." Niemans said.

"With what I have on you? You'll let me walk."

"The way we see it, there's no wrong solution to your problem." Danko said. "Either join us and we stop these killers once and for all. Or you arrest us and do your duty as an officer of the law."

Franklin squinted.: "You mean TRY and arrest you. You zap my ass, non-lethally, and go on your way doing…whatever the fuck it is you do."

They answered him with silence.

"Yeah…"Franklin said. "That's what I thought."

"The decision is yours, Marshal Franklin." Danko said.

Yeah. The choice was his.

And he didn't know what to do.


	8. Part Eight

MANHATTAN SHIELD OPS CENTER

0800 HOURS

Amy Chen went at Elektra with her sword, shrieking like a mad banshee. Elektra was cold, focused, wielding her sai, but still strained with the efforts of blocking the Asian assassin turned mercenary for Silver Sable's Wild Pack.

Both women's weapons seemed to be extensions of their bodies. Sparks flew as steel met steel.

Soon, one of Elektra's sai flew out of her hands. Then the other. As Chen came down with her blade for final stroke, Elektra caught the blade with her hands and her leg became a blur. She sent a roundhouse into Chen's ribs, folded up and sent another kick, burying her heel into Chen's solar plexus. Chen went backwards as Elektra back flipped, grabbed her sai and went back into position.

"Nice." Elektra said.

"Likewise. Your skill equals your legend." Chen said.

"Thank you."

The two warrior women saluted each other.

The others were training in various ranges and dojos in the center.

Elektra caught the Punisher going off. His face was even more somber than usual. She followed him.

CASTLE WENT TO ANOTHER SECTION of the floor. Facing a huge window. Looking down at the city.

"Meditating?" She asked him. "Would you rather be alone?"

"Makes no difference to me." Castle said.

"What's on your mind, Frank? You don't strike me as someone who tires of target practice."

"You'd be surprised." Castle answered.

"Really?"

"I had a discussion with Widow earlier. I said that I never lost my focus or will to fight this war. Truth is, I've been at it for thirty years. And whether I like him or not, Daredevil has done his share in this war. He put Fisk down. The tide never seems to change in any significant way. Kingpin goes down, a thousand would be bosses come out of the woodwork fighting over turf. And the killing continues. And sometimes, I get tired. I wonder about the point of all this. Then I remember Maria and the kids. I remember countless victims, innocent bystanders. Rage swells up. Hate. The thirst for retribution. Hell, justice. Still, sometimes, I can't help but think that this is a fool's war. It can't be won. People like me fight outside the law. Good cops fight within the law. And still, nothing."

Castle paused. There was no bitterness or whining in his voice, just cold lucidity and awareness. Realism. Also, weariness.

"We're gonna either kill those fucks tonight or die." Castle went on. "What difference will it have made in the end?"

"You will have tried." Elektra said. "When most people give in to indifference, apathy and corruption, you try to make this world safer so people don't lose what you've lost. That's more tangible than ethical abstractions like good or evil. Some people need killing so that innocent people can live in peace. You know that better than most, you just need to remind yourself that sometimes."

"Yeah. I do."

Castle looked at Elektra. Birds of a feather. Damaged by personal loss. Removed from humanity. Living hip-deep in blood and carnage. Always seeing the worst of what mankind had to offer.

"Enough of this brooding." Castle said. "I feel like shooting something."

"Good for you." Elektra said.

RUNDOWN BUILDING IN THE BRONX

0801 HOURS

Franklin pulled out his. 454 and Glock 21 and aimed them at Danko and Niemans.

"I can't let you do this." Franklin said. "This crosses the line. Sometimes, you break a few rules to get the job done. But this…kidnapping and torturing people, even if they are pieces of shit…I can't let this go."

Niemans, Danko, the asian man and the torture technician were all looking at Franklin.

"Drop your guns, hands against the wall." Franklin said.

"We can't, Marshal Franklin." Danko said quietly.

"Don't tell me." Franklin said. "You're on the job and you have to get the job done, that it? I got that from Castle earlier. Come on. This doesn't have to get ugly."

"It will if we don't stop Rastovilich and his men." Niemans said.

"I told you, I heard that noise-"Franklin started.

"You may have heard it, but I'm not sure you understood it." Danko said. "If those men carry on their takeover of New York's crime scene, the streets will be flooded with blood."

The little guy handling the torture device seemed greenish, like he was gonna puke, Franklin thought. Maybe the guns made him nervous. This was too real for him. Focus on the other three.

"And I told you." Franklin said. "I don't buy that fascistic Wild West nonsense. We got laws and-"

Something fell on the floor. The asian dropped a gun on the ground. The noise was unexpected. Franklin's head snapped towards the noise. He saw the weapon on the-

Movement. Gun. The little torture guy had a gun out. Franklin was a split second too slow. The accountant looking guy fired before Franklin could aim the Casull at him. A sting. In his neck. He squeezed the trigger anyway. Thunderclap resounded in the small room. Sleep. All Franklin wanted to do was…No…Stand and fight it. Seeing triple. Guns were heavy. Stay up. Fight. FIGHT. Another sting. Legs wobbly. Couldn't hold guns…God…damn…tranq again…Franklin went down.

DANKO STOOD OVER THE BIG MARSHAL.

"Sorry." He said. "You didn't have to shoot twice, Clarence."

"Big bastard wouldn't go down." The small torture technician-Clarence- said. "This is potent shit. Didn't want to put the poor guy in a coma. Scared me shit when his canon went off. Missed me by a few inches."

"I don't understand." The asian said. "Everything in his profile should have made him join us."

"He still believes in due process, we can hardly hold that against him, Cheng." Danko said.

"We know what we need to know." Niemans said. "We must clean up here and move out."

"Yes, we do." Danko said quietly. "We have a war to win."


	9. Part Nine

WAREHOUSE/HQ FOR TATAMOVICH AND RASTOVILICH

0800 HOURS

"We need to take it to the next level." Rastovilich, leader of the mercenaries said.

"What do you mean?" Tatamovich, would be king of New York asked.

"We're at war. It's possible the authorities are on to us, besides Punisher and his allies, whoever they are."

"What do you suggest? We already tried to ambush Castle, that didn't work." Tatamovich said.

"True. We have to up the ante. And change our M.O."

"You have an idea."

"I have a few. I need your consent. You are, after all, my employer."

"As long as it helps me get closer to my goal. I want to sit in Fisk's former chair, Viktor."

"I think it will. We need to act fast."

And Rastovilich told his plan.

"I like it." Tatamovich said. "For Castle…He's an extraordinary threat. We need an extraordinary solution. And I also have a few ideas. Last resorts."

1032 HOURS

A high pitched shriek came into Franklin's consciousness. What..Who…

His cellular phone.

He answered.

"Franklin."

"Jesus Christ, Franklin." It was Feinstein, the FBI man in charge of bringing in Rastovilich and Tatmovich. "Been trying to reach you for hours."

The marshal had the mother of all headaches.

"I'm here now." He said.

"You sound like shit. Did you get shitfaced last night or something?"

"No…Something came up. I have news."

"Bad news?"

"The worst."

"Christ. What is it?"

"Not on the phone. You at One Police Plaza?"

"Yeah, we're here."

"I'll talk to you in person. This thing got even more fucked up."

"Shit. Ok, we'll be waiting for ya. We'll trade tips."

"Yeah."

Franklin cut the line and willed himself to his feet. He wasn't groggy, but his head hurt. He remembered perfectly what happened to him. And about the Interpol cops.

He found his car. He opened his glove box. He always had extra strength Tylenol. Always prepared. He swallowed four.

Feinstein probably wanted to tell Franklin about the prisoner. The guy Franklin saw getting tortured by Niemans and Danko was the merc he busted. He was supposed to be held in the Brooklyn cop shop. The fake INTERPOL dudes probably broke the bastard out of jail.

About forty minutes after waking up, Franklin was a couple of blocks from One Police Plaza.

He wondered. Should he have accepted Danko's offer? Now, he didn't have a goddamn lead. Should he have-

There was a flash of light. Like lightning. And a loud boom. What the-

"God…"Franklin whispered.

One Police Plaza, New York' Police HQ, exploded.

Fire, dust, smoke, debris, shrapnel was flying all over the street. Then, there were secondary explosions. Cars.

It was chaos. Sheer, utter chaos.

It was hell.

There was a cacophony of twisting metal, crumbling concrete, car alarms, screams, cries.

A thick cloud of smoke was covering the area.

Bloodied people rushing out of…Ground Zero, it was the only way he could…People with missing legs.

This was a sheer nightmare. There were no other words for that.

Franklin had to snap out of it. He got out of his car and rushed towards the epicentre of that small apocalypse. He tried to block out the sirens, the crying, the shrieks of the dying, the wounded, the widowed. Various iterations of horror came to him.

A young woman holding a dead child.

A middle aged man holding his dead wife, most likely.

A beheaded elderly woman.

A teenaged boy, disfigured. Trying to scream. No eyes. No tongue.

A young man, trying to keep his intestines inside of him.

The closer he got to the source of the blast He saw more charred bodies. More wounded. More terrified people.

He stopped running near One Police Plaza. His eyes were full of tears from the dust and smoke. There a was deep and wide smoking crater in front of the building. Cars were blown apart or turned over by the shockwave.

Car bomb. Or maybe a van. Parked in front.

Everything was burning. One Police Plaza was burning. People were yelling, the stench of burned flesh was overwhelming. They used fuel along with the explosives.

First, there was shock. Then horror. Then horror was replaced with rage. Bloodlust.

Whoever did this had to fucking die.

First. Help those in need.

Then hunt and kill every last motherfuckin' motherfucker responsible for this.

SHIELD OPS CENTER

1118 HOURS

"Jesus Christ…" Fury said.

The Punisher, Fury, Widow, Elektra, Silver Sable, G-Wiz, Crippler, Chen and Shotgun were watching the blast site on a giant monitor.

There was a minute of silent horror.

There were smaller screens in the control room. Also showing satellite pictures.

"It's them. Tatamovich and Rastovilich." Castle said. His voice seemed void of any emotion.

"How do you know for sure?" Fury said. The SHIELD commander tried to remain calm. 70 years of watching horrors like these…it still got to him.

"Look. On the other screens. There were other blasts." Castle said. "Brooklyn, again. Flatbush area. The Bronx. Even New Jersey and Atlantic City. Other places. This was a coordinated attack. They took out the Jamaican Posses, more goombahs, bikers…And the cops. All those places went up at the same time. All bombs. The gloves came off. Of course, the cops and the feds will panic. Maybe even the CIA. And while the rest of the world is thinking maybe Al Qaeda, by the time the dust settles and the law is still trying to recover, the Ivans take over. Sound strategy."

"Sound strategy?" Widow yelled. "You heartless son of a bitch, do you even realize what these bastards have done?"

"He understands them." Sable said. "It's what he would have done. Right, Castle? You're just like Rastovilich. Cold. Inhuman."

Castle said nothing for several seconds. Tension was rising the office.

"I don't give a fuck what you think of me." Castle said. "I only give a fuck about the task at hand. I'm not a fireman, or a paramedic. I can't help those people. What I am is a soldier. I can make sure whoever did this doesn't do it again. I thought that was what all of this was about."

"Christ, Castle, of course it is. " Fury said. "And you're right. There are healers for the victims down there. That ain't what we are."

"All we can do is avenge the victims. So their deaths are not in vain." Elektra said.

"What is our next move?" G-Wiz asked. "They changed their M.O. So should we."

"I'm with him." Shotgun said. "I say we stomp the muthafuckas now. Fuck the night time assault."

"They feel confident after this last coup. Now it is the time to strike." Amy Chen said.

Alarms started blaring in the complex at that exact same moment.

"What's that alarm, Fury?" Silver Sable asked.

An explosion rocked the building. The whole floor shook.

"Incoming." Fury said.

"Who knows we're here?" Castle asked.

"Nobody except us." Fury said.

All the warriors present readied their weapons. The doors to the control room blew up. They all took cover and got ready as the dust cleared.

A grenade landed on the conference table.

"I GOT THIS!" G-Wiz shouted as he tossed himself on the grenade and it went off.

"G-WIZ!" Crippler, his fellow Wild Pack member and friend screamed.

"Heroic, but useless." A voice said from behind the doorway.

"Fuck you!" Crippler said, he eyes welling up in rage and grief, "You're gonna choke on your own fuckin' balls, you fucker!"

"Sure." The voice said. "Whatever."

And then, the air filled with gunfire.


	10. Part Ten

SHIELD OPS CENTER

MANHATTAN

Ears still ringing from the concussion grenade, Castle pulled out his Colt .45 and fired towards the smoking doorway. The others did the same, most of them had automatic pistols, except for Shotgun who had as Striker-12 automatic shotgun. His codename wasn't false advertising. Elektra had no firearms.

"Walker!" Castle called out to him, while reloading his pistol. "What are we dealing with!"

Shotgun tapped the side of his fashionable wraparound shades. He then answered.

"X-Ray vision tells me we got maybe two dozen muthafuckas armed with assault rifles. Maybe a couple more."

"How the fuck did these assholes find us?" Fury said.

"You have a leak, Nick." Black Widow said.

"Im-fuckin'-possible, Romanov." Fury said.

"Fuck this playing's who's who." Crippler said. "They fuckin' killed G-Wiz. They get to fuckin' DIE! I'm gonna-"

Silver Sable punched Crippler in the face.

"Get a hold of yourself, soldier." She said. "Losing two won't help us."

"Right. Right, boss. Sorry." Crippler said.

Castle unclipped a fragmentation grenade from his gear.

"Walker!" He shouted.

"Way ahead of you, Frank." Shotgun said loading up shells.

"Are those special rounds?" Amy Chen asked.

"Damn right. C-4 slugs, baby." Shotgun said.

"Everybody reload!" Fury said. "Hold your fire! As soon as shit blows up, rush those fuckers! Hit'em hard and hit' em fast. On my mark!"

Everyone nodded. He did a silent countdown with his fingers. Everyone was still ducking down from the never ending barrage of gunfire.

"NOW!" Fury shouted!

Castle tossed his grenade out the door as Shotgun fired three explosive shells.

For a few seconds there was a small apocalypse as a succession of deafening explosions came in rapid fire.

"Let's finish those bastards!" Fury yelled as they all got up as one and left the control room.

There was already blood on the walls, victims of the first onslaught. Ten were left standing. Men in assault gear, complete with flak-jackets and hoods.

Castle shot the one nearest him, still dazed and confused from the blast, between the eyes. The skull burst into a dark red paste. The dead and half headless thug dropped to the ground, dropping an AK-47 with a cylindric drum.

Castle dove to the ground and grabbed the dead man's weapon, rolled and fired a long burst at three sets of kneecaps. Bone and cartilage exploded and their screams of sheer agony almost covered the fusillade.

At the exact same time, Elektra and Amy Chen came out screaming like banshees, waving cold steel, instead of firing hot lead.

Elektra drove each one of her sais into the skulls of two of the enemy, yanked them out and crouched, all in a one smooth motion.

Amy Chen went down, drove the tip of her sword into a killer's groin and it went out the man's anus. She then pulled out her katana and decapitated another man with blinding speed.

Fury, Sable and Black Widow came out firing their sidearms and each doubled tapped two men in the head.

Crippler came out swinging what seemed like straight, three foot long steel baton. He twisted the handle and three inch spikes came out of them. He yelled.

"This is for G-Wiz, you sacks-"

The baton connected with one skull, on the side, and it split open on impact.

"OF SHIT!"

The other one was an upwards swing that caught another man under the chin. The chin and jaw exploded, cervical vertebrae snapped at the whiplash and the man fell down.

And just like that, it was quiet again. Smoke, dust, cordite and blood everywhere.

But Castle and his allies had won. He saw Amy Chen pat Crippler on the back. Crippler nodded. Castle had seen it countless times in Vietnam. Crippler needed to get his head back In the game and he knew it. Killing those two fucks was necessary before he could do it, though. Therapy.

"I have three live ones." Castle told the others.

Fury knelt down and removed the hoods.

"Holy fuck." Fury said. "That one in the middle."

"Who is he?" Sable said.

"Chuck Austin. Mercenary. Hitman. Mutant." Fury said. "Hightened sense of smell and other enhanced senses. These other cocksuckers I don't know, but they have Slavic features."

"Rastovilich and Tatamovich must have sent him after me." Castle said. "That's how they found us. This punk caught my scent from somewhere and tracked me down here."

"Do we need them?" Castle asked.

"Not really. No." Fury said.

Castle fired a long burst from his confiscated AK-47 at them and shattered all three of their craniums. He then went on to empty the rest of the drum into their torsos. It was more than overkill, but Crippler wasn't the only one who needed to get the genie out of the bottle. That last string of bombings across town have gotten to Castle. They got him to his very core. Hundreds of people, murdered, because they were in the way of power hungry bastards.

Like Central Park, thirty years ago. But a thousand fold.

Cold rage was filling Castle's gut and his blood was ice. But, like always, he kept it buried deep within himself.

"So, now what?" Shotgun said. "This place is compromised."

"Spent a lot of seized assets to have it built, too. Pisses me off." Fury said.

"Hey." Crippler said. "A good buddy of mine just died. All you think about is your goddamn base?"

"Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to, punk." Fury snarled. "I started losing buddies on the battlefield when your daddy was a cumstain, you little snot nosed PRICK. Don't you dare take that tone with me, boy. "

There was tense silence.

Castle watched as Fury was boiling. He's been a leader of men, a soldier for over five decades. Rumor has it that some kind of serum or formula in his blood keeps him from aging. Fury is in his 90s. He's seen and done it all. As pissed, big, strong as he was, Crippler couldn't hold Fury's merciless one-eyed stare and turned away.

"Don't be too hard on Crippler." A voice said. "He's special."

They turned around to see G-Wiz standing in the doorway.

"G-Wiz!" Crippler said, running towards his friend and comrade and bear hugging him.

"Ah! Easy, my sides do hurt." G-Wiz said.

"Sorry, bud. But…"Crippler started.

"Remember that gig in Wakanda a while back? T'Challa, the Black Panther, he gave us those Vibranium suits. It's some good shit, that Vibranium."

"It absorbed most of the damage from that blast." Widow said. "Thanks' T'Challa."

Silver Sable said:" I suggest that we go to my HQ, in the Symkarian consulate. We will regroup and re-evalate."

"Good idea, Sable." Fury said. "G-Wiz. Widow. Transfer all data and intel we got to the consulate computers. The rest of you, pack your shit. We're moving out."


	11. Chapter 11

TV LAND

The News:

"Shock. Terror. Chaos. Those words describe a reality that New Yorkers are all too familiar with. The wounds of 9/11 are barely healing and this pulls out the stitches. And America bleeds all over again. As the city reels from the latest blow to its heart, authorities are still baffled by the string of bombings that have hit New York and New Jersey. The death toll is still uncertain, but it's been said that it could be in the thousands."

Another channel

"One Police Plaza, the newest victim to terror, is now a ruin. Hundreds of police officers and federal agents have fallen in this latest shocking attack on American soil."

Another channel still:

"We've asked people on the street what their reaction was to this new crisis. This was what they had to say."

Young white man in his late teens, early 20s:

"This has to be the BLEEP ragheads again. Those BLEEP are BLEEP retards. We should BLEEP those BLEEP into pieces. Send down some porn and some drugs, give them something to occupy themselves. BLEEP."

Middle aged black man:

"This is horrible. When it's not nature lashing out at us, it's our fellow man. When does it stop ? When does it ever stop?"

Middle aged white preacher:

"This is time for Sodoma and Gomorrah to change its sinful ways. The Lord has spoken! Wiping out sin with its cleansing fire! People of New York, that was but a warning!"

White man in his forties, Slavic accent:

"I come to America to run from ethnic cleansing in my country. America is great place. Why people attack it?"

Bearded man in his 40s:

"This is it. It's the fascists? Remember those militias? Oaklahoma 1995? We all thought we'd seen the last of those guys, huh? WELL, GUESS WHO'S BACK, HUH?"

Young white woman in her early 20s:

"Before we all get, like, caught up in anger, we should think about the people that died and how we can help their families."

Middle aged middle eastern man:

"I fear for my people. We will be blamed for this. After 9/11, my business almost went bankrupt. Now, I will get the hate mail again, the threats, the vandalism. This is not good for anyone."

Middle aged Black man:

"Man, I blame Canadians. Yeah, I blame those hockey lovin, maple syrup suckin' motherBLEEP. It's true. They let all them damn foreigners in their country, then they get all up in our country and they do this BLEEP. What? Racist assumptions? Who the BLEEP you callin' racist, you cracker? What, you Hispanic? Then who the BLEEP you callin' racist you spic BLEEP!"

Yet another channel

"We now have word that The President Of The United States will make a statement. He has accepted to cut short his three month vacation on his Texas Ranch to speak out."

CNN

"My fellow Americans. Once again, we have been attacked by evil cowards. Once again, one of our great symbols, has been struck down.

Once again, we have been wounded at our very core. We have been blindsided. And we should all send condolences and prayers to the families of those who have fallen during this tragic, tragic event.

But I am ALSO here to tell you this: America will not bow down to terror. America will NOT surrender to these evil men desperately trying to change our way of life.

Our troops overseas will still fight to liberate peoples from all sorts of tyrants.

Let me be perfectly clear: the law enforcement agents, who have seen their brothers and sisters fall during this cruel onslaught, America's fighting men and women, the Intelligence community will make sure that the men who did this will be hunted, apprehended and brought to justice. And I assure that this justice will be swift and unwavering.

I urge you all, I urge all Americans to keep faith. It is in these dark times that both a people and its leader must trust each other: America must trust her leader and her allies to make sure that this wrong is avenged, and the leader have faith in their fellow citizens to keep on living their lives so we can show these cowardly murderers what the American spirit truly is. Its strength. Its beauty. Its unflinching courage.

Remember: America and Americans have God on their side. Have faith in the Lord. Have faith in America.

Thank you. Good night.

God bless you and God bless America."

TEXAS

The President left as camera flashes lit up the podium where he was standing a second before.

"How was that?" The President asked one of his advisors. He couldn't remember the name. They all looked alike. Nervous white guys aged 35 to 60 in expensive suits.

"Excellent delivery, Mister President." One of them said.

"Perfect." Another said.

"Good." The President said. "I only have one question."

"Yes?" One of the drones asked.

"Who the hell was it that hit us?" POTUS asked.

WAREHOUSE

HQ OF TATAMOVICH AND RASTOVILICH

They were watching television.

"Amazing." Rastovilich said. "I thought the communists had good propagandists. That was incredible."

"They think we're terrorists." Tatamovich said. "Nobody has made the connection between the gang wars and the bombings."

"Why would they?" Rastovilich said. "Gangsters don't blow up buildings like that. That's what Al Qaeda does."

"Fuckin' brilliant." Tatamovich said.

"Now." Rastovlich said. "You are rid of your competition. If you're lucky, the cops that were on your case are either dead or working on this string terrorist attacks. You're almost there."

"Almost is the key word, Viktor." Tatamovich said. "The Punisher is still out there. He's defeated us at every turn. I will not rest until I see that fucker dead."

2212 HOURS

Cleveland Franklin went home. Spent. Depressed. Smelling like death and ashes. He went to the bathroom.

He showered.

He had images popping in his head.

Charred bodies. Screaming. Endless, endless, screaming. He'd stayed at the site for as long as he could. Paramedics ordered him home.

Screaming. Charred bodies. Smoke. Blood. Burnt cars.

This was Hell. Franklin had taken a trip to Hell. He'd never seen death and suffering at such a scale. He'd seen pictures, read bout it, all of it, but to actually see it.

And, for a second, his heart was full of hate, back there. For a few seconds, Franklin had the urge to kill. He repressed it.

He'd seen enough death and carnage to last for decades.

Blood.

Bodies. Nothing but bodies. Hundreds. Thousands Screams.

Feinstein. O'Reilly. All the cops on the Russian mob case. Dead.

Fire. Death. Screams.

Thousands.

People on fire. Screaming. Running.

The images were flooding Franklin's mind. He was losing it. He was losing. He had to focus. Focus. FOCUS. THINK.

Think. Think.

But he couldn't. He was exhausted. And the images came again.

Death. Misery. Pain. Fire.

Hell.

He would need to rest and sleep to figure this out. But how could he sleep with that in his head.

His bosses would probably yank him out and tell him to forget the Punisher, the Russian gang and-

Wait. Gang war. High death toll. What are the odds of all the violence peeking at the same time? Punisher…Gang war…

Could it all be linked? Could it be that the gangsters were behind the bombings? Franklin remembered Danko's words, the first time he met him at the beginning of this madness. "They are animals. They will kill anyone who stands in their way." The blasts, they took out cops, casinos, apartment buildings…

Mob hang outs. Had to be. The blasts…did they kill innocent people at random or some were rivals for Tatamovich?

If so, what could he do?

Brighton Beach might bring the answer. Maybe.

Franklin went on his bed. He sat. Still thinking. Until victims popped in his mind. And he watched all those people suffer and die. He tried to help a few, but more were hurting and screaming for help. He absorbed all their pain and despair.

He watched dozens of people die. Several in his arms. It all came to him at once.

And US Marshal Cleveland Franklin, 10 year veteran in the United States Marshal service, ex-Marine, cried softly, alone, in his dark bedroom.


	12. Chapter 12

IN A HELICOPTER ABOVE MANHATTAN

2330 HOURS

Castle was in a very familiar mindset.

He was in a helicopter. Armed to the teeth. Riding with a bunch of fellow soldiers. Ready to kill. Ready to die.

Same old. Same old.

A lifetime ago, when he was alive, when he was a Marine, he was in a similar mindset. There were a few differences.

Back then. He was a dedicated soldier, fighting for god and country. He was also a young father. And husband.

He had something to come home to.

Love.

Family.

Hope.

All that was wiped out one day in Central Park. Killed by scum called The Costa Brothers. Gangsters. Thugs who use words like honor and family.

They know nothing about honor. And they destroy families.

Since that day in Central Park, The Punisher has been fighting a war for thirty years, a war on the scum that murdered innocents for power and greed. He's been called obsessed. Fanatical. Psychotic. Paranoid.

The latest string of bombings ten hours before by Tatamovich and Rastovilich killed over 1500 people. At least. Cops. Civilians.

With those kinds of numbers, how can this be anything else than a war? How could the Punisher be anything less than paranoid?

The story was: terrorists hit the city again. Castle wondered if the feds and media were spreading this bullshit out of ignorance or just keeping the truth to themselves.

Castle wondered what would be more hard to accept for the average citizen: mass murder by terrorists or mass murder by gangsters.

The city was shut down for a few days until things got back in order.

The chopper flew over the main bombsite. One Police Plaza. Castle and the others watched silently. Everybody kept a game face, but there was something hanging in the air. Tension. Horror. Thirst for revenge in the name of the victims. Justice. In the beginning, The Punisher was the enemy of the law.

Federal Agent Dave Hamilton in the 1970s. VIGIL in the 1990s. Serious manhunts.

Then, time passed. The cops and feds turned a blind eye to him and sent failures, fuck ups or people who pissed off the brass.

Soap.

Van Richtofen.

Now, Franklin.

But even back when cops were gunning for his ass, Castle saw them as allies. Soldiers on the same side. He even shied away from killing dirty cops. Unless they were irredeemable fucks.

Like Blackwell. A lunatic member of VIGIL who used a little girl as a shield to get Castle. Castle blew his head off. Shotgun blast. In front of a news chopper.

But most cops were good people. They deserved better than be killed in a bomb blast by greedy bastards.

Castle saw the rubble. The hundreds of emergency vehicles, the spinning lights. Firefighters. Paramedics. Cops. Like worker bees, all over the scene. Helping. Healing. Comforting. Looking for bodies. Trying to bring closure.

True soldiers.

True heroes.

Many of them will be forgotten. A few of them will give interviews. A few will commit suicide. Soul overloaded with too much horror. Saturated with death and misery. More casualties. More victims of this insanity.

Despite that, despite the good will and hard work of such decent people, there was still the need for shadow warriors. People who had to deal with ugly side of things.

People who lived to wipe out scum.

Like Rastovilich and Tatamovich.

Rastovilich and Tatamovich have managed what no other crime lords have. Create a national panic. A siege mentality. They robbed people of the right to live without constant fear of being bombed.

Paranoia. Bigotry. More violence. Gang violence. Social upheaval.

Consequences of these bombings.

Until those bombings, the battle was secret, underground. They made it open warfare. They got civilians killed by the hundreds.

They had to be wiped out.

Exterminated.

Punished.

No matter what guys like Daredevil and Spider-Man thought, some people just needed killing. Some you could scare, or cripple, or turn in…but some desperately needed a slug in the head.

No amount of societal change or rehabilitation could fix them.

Not animals like the countless scum he's encountered.

He was one of the few who understood that. Most of them, he was working with them that night.

Most of his current war has been fought alone. He preferred it that way. This time, we wasn't alone. And he was grateful.

Rastovilich had an army of battle tested warriors. Killers hardened by dirty wars all over the world.

Just like Castle and most of his allies.

"Feels like old times, huh, Frank?" Shotgun told him.

"Yeah." Castle said.

"But different, right?" Shotgun said.

"Yeah. Different."

"Always the chatterbox, Frank." Shotgun said. And he remained quiet.

Sliver Sable spoke up: "Castle."

"Yeah."

"I…may have been harsh in my judgement earlier." She said. "It's obvious you don't admire these men. You wouldn't be here otherwise. You were being professional and figuring out their strategy. I'm sorry."

Castle looked up in her eyes. Sable was a hard woman. Tough. Proud. The first meeting they had was over a decade ago. They fought and spouted threats at each other. She doesn't particularly like him. Castle didn't care what people thought of him, but he knew she didn't have to apologise.

Castle nodded silently. She nodded back. Castle caught Widow's look as well. She echoed Sable's words in a silent nod.

Castle was beyond love or friendship. But he rarely had people who with him. Not since Microchip. He was riding with people who've been through a lot of the same shit he has. Violence. Loss.

Now, he was heading towards another mission. Another enemy. Another group of fucks that desperately needed killing.

The difference with last time, he didn't care if he made it out alive or not.

He was already dead. In every way that mattered, he was dead.

And if he had his way, he would take a lot of those fuckers with him to Hell.


	13. Chapter 13

2300 HOURS

Franklin couldn't sleep.

He kept seeing them. The victims of the bombings.

The nightmares were getting worse. The victims were wearing his father's face. Calling him a joke. A failure.

A disappointment.

What could he do?

He'd planned on hitting the Russian bars and tea houses. Shake them down. See what fell out.

What would it solve? Did he actually expect to have a lead towards Rastovilich, Tatamovich and Castle?

It was better than doing nothing.

Franklin was rubbing his eyes. He was tired and cranked up. Haunted by nightmares. Maybe his judgement was off.

_What_ could he do?

What _could_ he do?

What could _he_ do?

What could he _do_?

He was going stir crazy. He had to get out. Franklin got dressed-jeans, black T-shirt, leather jacket- and stepped out. He went to his car. The 1980s Trans-Am came to life.

A tank full of gas. A trunk full of guns. A head full of nightmares. Bad combo.

Ok. Think. Think.

What happened since the bombings? Nothing came on the wire. Things would mellow out for a while on the gangster front.

And Castle and his allies? What would happen with those guys? And the Interpol guys, Danko and Niemans?

Something…Shit was gonna hit the fan. The body count wouldn't stop there.

The Russian mob was gonna get hit soon. That guy Danko and his crew were torturing had to have talked. And Franklin could put torture past Castle.

So, Franklin was speculating: both vigilante crews may know where Rastovilich and Tatamovich were. How could Franklin-

At that moment, his cel phone rang.

"Franklin." He said.

"Deputy Marshal Cleveland Franklin? This is Agent Chris Burns, FBI. We need to speak as soon as possible."

"Yeah. We do. Where are you?"

"City Hall. We set up a temporary HQ here."

"I'm on my way."

NEW YORK CITY HALL

There were rows and rows of reporters in front of the building. Some uniformed cops came to meet him. One of them spoke out to him.

"Marshal Franklin? The FBI, ATF and Commissioner and Mayor want to see you."

Franklin was escorted through the rows of reporters.

Soon he was in the mayor's office. The Mayor, The Commissioner, several men in suits. Feds.

A tall, balding man white man went to him with an extended hand:" Special Agent Chris Burns. Wish we would have met in other circumstances."

Franklin nodded curtly. There were men and woman in suits. ATF and FBI IDs.

They all sat down at a conference table. Burns spoke up:

"Marshal Franklin, you're the only surviving principal on this case. Tell us what you got. Everything."

Franklin took a deep breath and talked. Punisher. His possible allies. The Russians. Danko and Niemans. The gunfights. The close calls. The blast at One Police Plaza. Everything.

It took a few minutes. He also offered his hypothesis. His speculation.

Burns nodded:" Good. These fake INTERPOL guys, that was an… unexpected twist. But, we reached some of the same conclusions. At this time, you have no idea where any of these people could be? Castle, The Russians…"

"No." Franklin admitted. "I just have the feeling everything is gonna end soon. We should be on the look out for any major outbursts of violence. The Punisher and whoever is helping him are gonna hit the Russians."

"And we can't forget the fake INTERPOL agents." Burns said. "A lot of unknowns. Too many unknowns."

"Look." Franklin said. "This is the way I see it: put as many choppers as you can in the sky, cars on the street, maintain SWAT teams on stand by. ATF, FBI, DEA, NYPD… We're gonna need some serious manpower if we wanna catch ANY of those guys. Gangster or vigilante. This…"

Maybe it was fatigue ambushing him, but images of burning victims assaulted him at once. He was afraid he might be losing his mind. For the first time in his life, Franklin doubted his own sanity.

"This has to stop." Franklin finished. "This violence, this fuckin' gang war…it has to stop."

"Yes." The Mayor said. "Inter-agency cooperation is important. Time is of the essence."

The commissioner nodded.

Burns ignore the politically opportunistic response and looked at Franklin closely, but said nothing.

Soon everybody was on cellular phones. Burns went over to Franklin.

"Steven Daniels. Raymond Jenkins. Blake Leonard." Burns said.

Franklin looked at Burns, puzzled.

"Just a couple of the buddies I've lost over the years on the job. I've watched them die. Survivor's guilt. Trust me, I know what it feels like. Blaming yourself for even being alive. Then, you start having nightmares, you see the faces of lost loved ones along with those dead buddies. Next thing you know, you're Jesus Christ, carrying the sins of the entire fucking world. Drive yourself wacko. Trust me. I've been in Waco type situations…It gets to ya. You saw something horrible at One Police Plaza. Mourn those people. Remember those people. Feel bad. Cry. Puke. Get drunk. Take a year off. Go on psych leave. But you can't let it mess with your head. Recognize your limitations. Try your best to see that justice is done. In the end, there isn't much more you can do."

Franklin nodded silently. Burns went on:

"I also know that saying the following is a waste of time: Go home, Marshal. You did more than enough, on your own. Rest. You had some good insight. We'll take over from here."

"I have to see this through, Burns." Franklin said. "If I don't finish this thing, all the shit I've been through will have been for nothing. I'll put Castle away. Then, I don't know…I need to rethink things…But one way or another, this has to end."

Burns nodded and then said.: "All right, then. Let's get to work."


	14. Chapter 14

2350 HOURS

Castle heard Fury's gruff voice in his head set. He was sitting next to the pilot.:

"We're approaching the target zone, so look alive, troops. Party time starts in a few minutes."

Two choppers full. Castle. Sable. Widow. Shotgun. Elektra. G-Wiz. Crippler. Amy Chen. Fury. A dozen of Sable's men.

Against 150 heavily armed, battle tested warriors.

It would have to be enough.

"We have sentinels on the roof." Castle heard again in his headset. " Six. One of them has binoculars."

WAREHOUSE

HQ OF RASTOVILICH AND TATAMOVICH

Rastovilich took his hand to his ear.

"Repeat that, watchman."

"Sir…I can hear choppers coming in, distantly, but I can't see them."

Rastovilich was puzzled. That made no sense.

"What is it, Victor?" Tatamovich asked.

"I'm not sure." Rastovilich said.

CHOPPERS

Fury's voice: "On my mark…"

WAREHOUSE

"Viktor, are we under attack or not!" Tatamovich shouted.

"Shut up, Piotr! I'm trying to think" Rastovilich said.

"What is there to think about? Either we are, or-"

CHOPPERS

Fury: "Hit it."

Both helicopters fired 20 mm Hellfire missiles at the warehouse.

The warehouse roof exploded in thunder and lightning, along with the sentinels.

WAREHOUSE

Tatamovich: "Holy shit!"

Rastovilich: "Does that answer your fucking questions! COMRADES! "

Whoever hadn't perished in the first onslaught was already recovering. Aiming at the night sky.

Rastovlich: "Where the fuck are they?"

One of his men seemed to listen intently and fired his AK-47 seemingly blindly. But something impossible happened.

Metallic sparks appeared out of nowhere.

CHOPPERS

"They figured us out!" G-Wiz said. "They know we're cloaked!"

"Ok. Fuck this hide and seek shit!" Fury said. " Remove the cloaks! Hit the ground and grease those motherfuckers!"

One of the chopper doors opened, the one holding Sable's Symkarian mercs. One of the was firing a 7.62mm mini-gun as the rest of the troops were repelling to the ground.

Castle's chopper went to the opposite side. Shotgun, with his belt-fed fully automatic 12 gauge weapon loaded with c-4 shells, was providing the cover.

It was hell.

It was war.

Dozens of the Russian mercs were being hacked up savagely by the relentless fire. The place was already littered with dismembered, gutted and burned corpses.

RASTOVILICH TOSSED TATAMOVICH A WEAPON, AN AK-47 WITH A 90 ROUND DRUM, Rastovlich had an M-4 Carbine with a similar drum, but it was fitted with a 40 mil grenade launcher.

Most of his men were still alive, taking cover and fighting back. Fighting hard.

Rastovilich aimed his 40 mil grenade launcher at one of the helicopters.

THE PUNISHER WAS FEELING AT HOME AMIDST THE CARNAGE.

One way or the other, it would end here.

Castle was holding his 7.62 M-60. His allies were spreading out. He found cover behind a concrete pillar. A cluster of half a dozen tangoes were heading his war. He unclipped two frags from his harness. Removed the pins and tossed them.

All six men were blown apart by the twin bombs.

Castle broke cover and went deeper into hell.

Then he heard a chopper explode.

NICK FURY SWORE AS HE SAW HIS CHOPPER EXPLODE. PILOT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD KID.

And so much for evac.

All Fury had to do was give the kid's death some meaning. He took cover behind some crates walked behind some of the enemy.

Like he told Widow earlier, this was fair. Fury wasn't Wyatt Earp.

Fury fired a long burst from his M-16/40Mil combo and cut down his four targets.

He rose his head on time to see four of Sable' Symkarians go down, taken by a group of Russian mercs. He fired a 40 mill High-Explosive round at them. They went, up and away in one piece or more.

Then Fury heard a barrage of automatic fire behind him and saw three more crumple to the ground.

"What would you do without me, Nick?" Black Widow said.

"Don't flatter yourself, Romanov. Let's go. We have more fuckers to kill."

ELEKTRA DIDN'T CARE MUCH FOR FIREARMS BUT THEY WERE EFFICIENT TOOLS.

She ducked and rolled as four of the enemy were firing at her. She fired back with controlled bursts of her H&K 7.62mm assault rifle. She seemed to dance around their fire as her round were touching their marks.

The stench of death was overwhelming, but the complete lawlessness of this massacre was liberating.

She abandoned herself to the sinister and beautiful dance of death.

She smiled. When more men came at here, her smile was wider, when she opened fire, she laughed whole heartedly.

Then their other helicopter exploded.

G-WIZ AND CRIPPLER WERE BOTH STARTLED BY THAT NEW TITANIC EXPLOSION.

"Hey, what-" Crippler said right before his skull was blown all over G-Wiz.

"Crippler! CRIPPLER!"

G-Wiz, eyes full of tears and rage saw five enemy soldiers come at him.

"FUCK YOU! MOTHERFUCKERS! _MOTHERFUCKEERRRS!_"

G-Wiz fired a weapon that seemed to project a net. It was. Except it was of barbed wire. Three men were caught and torn to pieces.

"You wanna be gangsters, you bitches!" G-Wiz said pulling twin 9MM fully automatic Glock 18s. "Let's dance, bitches, let's go gangsta style! Come on!"

He fired in pure unchecked rage at the remaining two. But didn't notice a man walking behind him, stopping, taking aim with an AK-47 and firing a short burst at his head.

TATAMOVICH WALKED OVER TO THE FALLEN ENEMY. AND SPIT ON HIM.

"This is what happens when you break into my house, you spic fucker."

SILVER SABLE WAS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE. AND KEEPING HER EMOTIONS IN CHECK.

She'd lost most of her people so far and there were so many of the enemy.

But it wasn't time for mourning and self doubt. She was along side Amy Chen.

"Sable. We've lost Crippler and G-Wiz. And our men."

"Keep fighting, Chen, kill as many as-"

"SABLE!" Chen shouted as she shoved Sable aside before he body was torn up by automatic fire.

"AMY!" Sable hosed down the trio of thugs who'd shot her ally and friend. She went over to Chen.

Eyes opened forever. Face intact and strangely peaceful.

She was a warrior and died a warrior's death.

Silver Sable got up and moved on.

CASTLE WAS SOON JOINED BY SHOTGUN BEHIND A PILE OF CRATES.

"Frank! We're getting our ass kicked!"

"Yeah." Castle said cutting down two men with his 60. He was out. He dropped it and unslung an M-4 Carbine.

"Nothin' gets to you, huh?" Shotgun said, blasting a trio of tangoes with a mix rifled slugs and shredder rounds. "We're running low and ammo. We lost all of Sable's people except Sable. And our choppers. And we still got Fury and Widow. And about two thirds of the opposition."

"Looks like we're fucked, Walker." Castle said quietly. "These guys aren't street thugs. They're hardcore."

"Fuckin' A." A familiar, gruff voice said.

"Fury." Castle said. "And Widow."

"But so are we." Fury said.

Soon, Elektra and Silver Sable joined.

"I could think of worse ways of dying for people like us." Elektra said.

"I gotta admit, this beats prostate cancer." Fury said.

"Or apathy." Sliver Sable said.

"Sable…"Fury said.

"You didn't get me into this, Fury, I did. They were warriors and died as such. I saw we honour them by taking out as many as we can."

Dozens of mercs were closing in on them.

"Sounds good to me." Shotgun said.

"This is our last stand. Let's make them remember it." Widow said.

"Let's deal out some Punishment." Castle said.

Like one man, they rose from cover and unleashed the fury of their automatic weapons.

TATAMOVICH AND RASTOVILICH SAW THE SMALL GROUP OF SURVIVORS FIGHT WITH EVERYTHING THEY HAD.

"No wonder Castle did so much damage. He had Elektra, Nick Fury, Black Widow and Silver Sable as allies." Rastovlich said.

"And who's the big nigger with the shotguns?" Tatamovich said.

"I don't know. But he's no slouch either. But in the end, it won't be enough." Rastovlich said.

"You almost sound sad." Tatamovich said.

"Warriors are a dying breed, Piotr. These were the best of the best."

Then an armoured car crashed through one of the walls.

"What the…" Rastovilich said.

"Who are these assholes?" Tatamovich said.

The truck plowed through several of the mercenaries.

Then 50.CAL machine guns were deployed from the truck and were hosing down the Russian mercs.

"FURY." CASTLE SHOUTED OVER THE MACHINE GUN FIRE. "ARE THESE SHIELD?"

"Honest to Christ, Castle, I have no idea who the fuck they are, but I am glad as hell they came." Fury said. "Let's give them some cover, people!"

With the new arrival, the fight didn't seem as hopeless for Castle and his allies.

Then metallic sounds were heard on the ground as the truck was still rolling through the troops.

"That thing is laying mines!" Shotgun said.

"Get down." Castle said.

Each of the half dozen mines went off. Each mine killed four of the enemy.

RASTOVLICH WENT OVER TO ONE HIS PREVIOUSLY FALLEN MEN WHO WAS HOLDING A LOADED RPG.

Rastovlich grabbed the rocket launcher and aimed it at the truck.

"Dosvedania." Rastovilich said as he fired.

THE TRUCK WAS HIT ON THE SIDE AND WAS FLIPPED OVER A FEW TIMES. AND LANDED ON ITS TIRES.

The Punisher and the others were still spraying the remaining soldiers as others closed in on the damaged truck.

The slide door opened and more automatic fire came out of the truck.

Then two men came out in full combat gear hosing down the opposition. One man, with short hair and a short beard was holding an M-4 Carbine with a 100 round drum. The other one, tall, strong, Slavic features, muscular was holding a 5.56 GE minigun.

"Son of a bitch…" Fury said.

"You know them too?" Shotgun said.

"So do I" Romanov said.

"Who are they?" Silver Sable asked.

"Govenko and Renaud. Sometimes known as Danko and Niemans of Interpol. Part of an outfit called Branch-X." Fury said. "Spooks. Really undercover."

More automatic fire came at Castle and his partners.

Rastovlich and Tatamovich.

The Punisher dove and rolled, pulled out his twin .45s and fired. And they both fell. Punisher walked towards them. He'd score a couple times on each of them. They were wounded and not going anywhere. The others were handling the remainder of the troops.

He thought of all the victims. The ugliness of the past couple of days which felt like a year.

He stood over them.

Both were coughing blood.

He aimed a 45 at each head and fired almost at the same time. Both skulls shattered and splattered the brains that masterminded a nearly successful hostile takeover of New York City.

He re-holstered his pistols. His shoulders slumped. He was tired. The adrenaline rush was wearing off.

He turned around. The last of the mercenaries had been finished off.

His work was done.

The Punisher went out in the cool night air.

DANKO/GOVENKO LOOKED AT FURY AND THE OTHERS:

"We have a hovercraft posted not far. We can get you of here before the law shows up."

"Good idea." Shotgun said.

"Where's The Punisher?" Renaud/Niemans asked.

"Frank ain't much of a social bird." Shotgun said.

"Let's get out of here before we become jail birds." Widow said.

"Also a good idea." Elektra said.

And they left behind a burning, corpse filled shell of a warehouse.


	15. EPILOGUE

A MONTH LATER

BROOKLYN, 2234 HOURS

The city was still reeling from all the chaos and carnage. Bodies were still being found at the bomb sites. Authorities were still-officially-baffled by the violence that took place at an abandoned warehouse, near the docks. Almost 200 dead were found there.

Even Castle had to admit, that had been an ugly one. One of the ugliest in a while.

A week after the gang war ended, Castle learned that Silver Sable buried her people. With all the honours. Worthy farewells for true warriors.

Even the skells had a hard time recovering from the War. Most of the outfits that were worth a damn had been wiped. The streets were quiet. And dry. Small players and two-bit thugs were laying low.

But it was a question of time. This war left a vaccum. And some aspiring kingpin will try to become The Man.

And Castle will take him out.

Now, Castle had some immediate concerns. One of his informants had a tip on someone peddling kiddie porn.

Castle had a meet with the snitch in a small diner at 11pm. He had a trucker's cap and a red flannel shirt.

Castle made the meet. He saw his snitch at the counter. A short, skinny, greasy little bastard called John Wein. Into dozens of small schemes. Not much of a criminal mastermind. But, one of those guys who knew everyone and could find everything.

Castle sat down. Ordered coffee and a piece of pie.

Wein slipped a paper.

"This is where you can find the sickos. The servers. The studios. Everything." Wein said.

Castle was about to pull an envelope full of cash.

"Keep it. This one is on me." Wein said. " I may be street trash to ya, but I have my limits, that shit…what they do is…evil."

Castle said nothing. He finished his coffee and his pie.

After, he said. "Thanks." He paid and left.

The address seemed like an abandoned tenement building. Castle was packing light. 45s and a MAC-10. Two frags if things got interesting.

He went up the stairs. Found the right apartment. He kicked it down, MAC-11 at the ready.

Nothing. No-one. He searched room after room. Still nothing.

Set up.

Had to be.

As Castle was heading back towards the door, he was staring into the barrel of a .454. Casull Raging Bull.

"Evening, Castle." The man said. "Drop the MAC."

"Marshal Franklin." Castle said. "Tenacious." He dropped the Mac.

"Yeah, you could say that. I spent weeks on the street dealing with scum-ass motherfuckers trying to get a bead on you. I finally figured that I had to flush you out. Started talking to some people about the kiddie porn. I knew that would draw you out. "

"Who wouldn't it draw out?" Castle asked.

"Good point. But see, I know you, Castle. Everybody thinks you're some pissed off, blood thirsty maniac looking for an excuse to kill. A lot of people think you're driven by rage and hate. I know what drives. It's pain. It's loss. What happened to your family left a gaping wound that ain't quite healed, ain't it? Trust me. I know. I have a wound like that. Except I never found the bastards that killed my dad before my eyes on our doorstep. And that how I knew you'd come."

"I'll hand it to you, Franklin. You're a hell of a hunter."

"Yeah. You're the last I'm hunting, too."

"Why?"

"I saw One Police Plaza. Can't get it out of my mind. I can't. It's driving me nuts. I can't be a manhunter with that shit in my head."

Franklin's focus was unwavering and so was the gun.

"I understood that other part of you that day as well. The Punisher part. When I saw One Police Plaza, I wanted to kill all the motherfuckers responsible. I was insane with anger. But, I believe in the law. I believe in due process. And that month ago, I saw enough slaughter to last me a lifetime. You were part of that. And it has to end."

Pause, then Franklin:

"You're under arrest, Castle. Drop all the hardware."

Franklin learned from previous times. He stayed just out of grappling reach. If Castle made one move, his head would come off and he knew it.

"Franklin…" Castle said.

Franklin fired. Castle felt like a freight train hit his chest and he went down. Wind knocked out of him.

"Sorry, Castle. Cheap shot. But I don't trust you to cooperate. I knew you had Kevlar." Franklin turned Castle on his stomach and cuffed him.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

And after that, Franklin pulled his cellular phone. And called it in. Then, he propped Castle against the wall and aimed the Casull at his head.

"Franklin…You don't get it, do you?" Castle said.

"I don't get what?"

"I'm gonna go to jail. I'm gonna break out like I always do and this song and dance will start all over again."

"I know, Castle. I know the system has been ignoring you for over a decade. The bad cops hope you get killed, some good ones like you because you do what they can't. Some cops would probably let you go right now. Some would kill you for money. I think what you're doing is wrong. It's illegal. It's wrong and it's dangerous. And when you do break out, they can find another chump to hunt you. I'm done."

"What will you do?"

"Get help. Once my head is working right again…who knows."

"Once I die, my spot will be open." Castle said.

"Funny."

"The world needs Punishers. Cops alone couldn't have stopped the war a month ago. The world needs people who fight dirty and ugly so it can sleep at night. There are monsters out there, Franklin, and those monsters need slaying."

"I put them in cages, Castle. The best I can do."

Sirens.

"Looks like our rides are here." Franklin said. "Let's go."

It was a circus.

Cops. SWAT teams. Also dozens of reporters. Press helicopters.

When cops came to take Castle away, reporters rushed Franklin. He didn't respond to anything and shoved through them to his car. And he managed to drive away.

He turned on the radio. Like an omen, Bob Dylan's Knocking On Heaven'S Door started playing.

For the first time in a while, Franklin allowed himself a smile. And listened and hummed with the words.

Mama, take this badge off of me  
I can't use it anymore.  
It's gettin' dark, too dark for me to see  
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door  
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door  
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door  
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Mama, put my guns in the ground  
I can't shoot them anymore.  
That long black cloud is comin' down  
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

BACK IN THE TRUCK, Castle, shackled in the back finished listening to the song.

It wasn't his song.

It was a question of time before he would be out in the world doing what needed to be done.

He could use some down time and opportunities to practice his melée skills.

Soon, he would be out Punishing again.

THE END


End file.
